


Lovers, Rulers, and Madmen

by knewbetterboy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jon and Daenerys Are Not Related, Light Angst, Smut, THIS SHOW ENDED AT SEASON 6, Tags May Change, dany is not a mad queen, fuck season 8 and d&d, kinda book based, kinda show based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 55,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knewbetterboy/pseuds/knewbetterboy
Summary: Jon Snow is a bastard from the North who struggles to survive as a sellsword. On a trip to Essos, their ship sinks under a monstrous storm and the rest of his companions are dead and lost. He wakes up to find a pair of violet eyes looking down at him. He later finds himself in a throne room full of beauty, power, jealousy, love, lust, and fear. Because in the midst of lovers, rulers, and madmen, the Dragon Queen can’t help herself but lay her eyes on the foreigner she rescued.-------(A few hints exploring Dany's relationships, and yes, she has always been the sweetheart of Essos.)(The timeline is around season 6)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is my first time writing for this fandom despite watching the show for years and I must admit that the characters are indeed complicated. I despise season 8 as much as you do, I'm clinging for a spark of hope for the books. Feel free to leave comments, enjoy! :)

**Jon**

Nothing stretched out from the galley named _Luna_ but the vast beautiful blue of the sea. Vast and beautiful, but deadly if one steered the ship in the wrong way that could lead to an uneventful moment. Jon Snow stood on his watch by the deck, the morning sunlight streaming on his face as a welcoming comfort from the cold rains last night. He still wore his black ringmail and the wetness from the rain had only begun to dry up, his undershirt sticking to his skin.

“The captain says it could be roughly two more days, or less if the weather is kind! I’ll have you all for a treat in a tavern and a wench by each once we arrive to loose down. This trip has been a cruise to seven hells.” bellowed Jon’s master, Salvator.

Salvator Black is the greatest merchant of the Seven Kingdoms. Or so he claimed. He is a man around his late sixties with a snow white beard growing past his navel and a bald head that shines like a newly gilded steel when it hits the light.

He climbed up to the deck and tapped Jon on the back. “What do you look for girls, son? Red hair? Blonde? Brunette? With big tits?”

Jon could only snigger uncomfortably. He has never laid with a woman before, as if he had a reason to. Besides, Salvator has a poor temper, the sky is too happy and the sun too pretty to ruin his master’s mood.

“Every woman is unique, my lord.” Jon said. Salvator was not a lord. He only like people inferior to him to address him like that.

“Hmp, good point. But the cunts? Or their talents? Surely there’s something to compare isn’t there?

“Perhaps.”

Salvator’s brows began to narrow. “I see you brood too much, boy. No girl will spread her legs for you if you stay like that. I could teach you a few tricks.”

“You have my gratitude. But I could save myself for a worthy woman.”

Salvator roared in laughter, spit flying from his mouth and tapping Jon on the back harder. “You’re a funny man, aren’t you? Bet you could get a girl with affection so you could taste her honey. Aye, that’s what all women fall for.”

Their conversation was interrupted by one of his trading men who reported a leak of two of the casks of wine. Jon sighed when the merchant left, glad of having a time alone and getting rid of the folly talk of cunts and women. There’s nothing interesting about it, the wenching. In fact he hated it, what was the point of touching someone whom you don’t have feelings for? At least a slight interest? Jon grunted at himself for thinking like a boy, he was a man now. The carnal purpose of bodies was not his to ponder to.

Came evenfall, it was time for Jon to retire to his private cabin. His duty for the day was done at last, and on the morrow when he climbed to the deck it might be the city of Meereen in sight. Jon undressed and removed his swordbelt and tucked himself to his bunk. Hoping for a dreamless sleep.

A face of a woman was looking down at him. She was pretty, but he could not make out to distinguish who she was. Her face was lovely and sweet, and Jon felt very comfortable around her. She was holding him in her arms, and he knew this could be the mother he had never known. Ever. He wished he could stay like this forever, an infant longing for his mother’s warmth and arms. The only love he could ever receive, but he was a bastard from the North. His mother could be anyone, and he is a no one but a bastard.

_Bastard, bastard, bastard…_

“You fucking bastard!”

Jon’s eyes snapped open. The voice came from outside the door of his cabin. And the ship was swaying dangerously, a queer movement. Jon hurriedly climbed down from his bunk and put on some clothes and grabbed his sword and dagger.

When he opened the door, he found two of the guards sprawled on the narrow hall floor, as though they have been struggling. Water was streaming on the floor, spreading out alarmingly and filling the ship. _We’re damned._ The other man pulled his companion to his feet, who seemed to have slipped on the wet floor. Together they carefully ran towards the stairs leading outside. “Come on, Snow!” urged the first man.

The ominous sound of thunder rung across the walls and Jon grabbed for the bag of coins hidden beneath his bunk’s mattress. Outside, everything and everywhere was wet. Men running around trying to save goods and themselves as well. The main mast has broken and fell to the ground, and Salvator was nowhere to be seen. The storm lashed at them angrily, once Jon stepped towards the row of boats stationed at the rudder, a flash of brightness blinded him and he felt the ground shudder.

The ground shifted again that seems to be downward. Jon forced his eyes open that were still stinging from the blinding light, rainwater blurring his sight. To his horror, the ship was perfectly split into two on its center. Jon ran and carried himself to hold onto the rails, but the force of the sinking ship was stronger. Men around him were screaming, drowning, he saw one of the crew meet a load of barrels that came crashing to him and fell altogether to the monstrous sea.

Jon’s hand that was holding onto the rails was stiffening painfully, and his fingers slipped. His scream was a silent sound against the roaring thunder of the storm and the spattering of the rain that felt like sharp pebbles. Jon fell, and the cold ice water of the sea greeted him. He had to fight the angry current of the water and find one of the ship’s boats. It was night, and he could barely see anything. The only source of light came from the lightning promising doom, and as it flickered among the clouds he saw that the majority of the boats were rowing away.

“Help! Over here!” he yelled.

Jon swam and swam, but his companions could not hear nor see him. They might be seeing corpses and objects gone astray on the surface of the sea. He held his breath, bracing himself for a hard swim when after a few strokes of his arms he felt something hit his side. He was being crushed and drowned, water was filling his eyes but they failed him and he could see no more. He was cold and stiff and bleeding, and then he kept falling into the depths of the sea.

The night was silent. It smelled like sea, sand, wood, and fish. The familiarity of the sea, though he was not fond of it, he knew it. Then something else mingled with the salty scent. It was cinnamon, vanilla, and flowers that bloom in the spring. His eyes opened slowly without him telling them to.

The sky was still dark but dotted with stars. His sight was still blurry, but they were adjusting enough in the darkness to recognize a figure blocking the night sky. It was a face, and Jon was sure the strange scent was coming from that figure. He could not determine the sex, but he was certain that he was staring back at a strange color of eyes, then he was drifting off to sleep again, maybe dying.

Maybe not. Maybe he’s having hallucinations, or this could be the after life. When Jon Snow opened his eyes, he found himself in a featherbed. Within a square small room with a single square window at his right side, the morning sunlight streaming on his blankets. Something was stabbing him repeatedly on the left side of his torso, and his head was throbbing, his left arm was numb, everything hurts. Beyond the door of the room he heard voices speaking a strange language, one from an old man and another from a woman. His eyes were betraying to sleep again when the door opened and closed softly. At least his reflexes were still present at the after life.

Jon squinted at the new company until he can see better. _He is indeed dead and in the after life._ A goddess, no, the old gods did not have anything like her. Her skin was pale, her eyes were violet, _so rare_ , and her face, stunning might be an understatement. The woman was wearing a hooded cloak that covers her whole body. She approached the bed.

“You are still in no good condition, _ser_. You have to sleep.” a sweet voice.

She reached for a cup beside the bed and brought it to his lips. He drank. And then he was fading away from her. _Another place to visit in the after life?_ He saw nothing that felt like a few moments, then he heard sounds. Soft feet shuffling on the ground. Jon Snow came back to his senses once again. Same bed, same room, same window, _same woman._ The light outside seemed to be morning. _Was it the same day?_ There was a small oak table at the end of the room this time, filled with a couple of flagons and parcels. She approached him, a small smile on her face. She gets prettier every time he opens his eyes. She wore the same cloak but the hood was pulled down this time. Her hair was silvery blonde, the color bringing out the violet in her eyes.

He grunted, slightly opening his chapped lips. The woman got the message and reached for a cup from his bedside. He shook his head, believing it may be another milk of the poppy.

“Water. Trust me.” she said.

He took a sip, and the taste of water brought him back to the heavens. “Am I dead? Who are you? Where -” he coughed and spat out blood.

A cloth was in her hand in an instant and reached out to wipe his mouth. She almost touched him, yes. But who is she? She could be anyone. He needs to escape soon if she appears to be a foe or a culprit. But she doesn’t look like one, not even close to a whore, even though she wore simple clothes.

“You are in the city of Meereen, ser. In a humble inn.”

“I’m not a knight.” he said flatly.

“Then how should I address you?”

He was a bastard, a no one, a simple sellsword. “Jon. Jon Snow, my lady.”

Her brows raised slightly in a curious line. As if she thought he was lying. She looked at him for a a few quick moments calculating his face, her amethyst eyes drilling into his dark ones. “You’re a Westerosi, from the North.” she said matter of factly.

“Yes, my lady. How did you know?” his bastard name was obvious.

“I’m quite educated, Jon Snow. Now drink again, water will help.”

Jon received the cup with his own hands and drank himself. He didn’t want to look like a pampered toddler in front of this lady.

“Can you tell me how you found me?”

“I was wandering the shores of the trading docks last night, then I found you unconscious. You have a wound your side, but it’s not deep, and a gash on your arm. The healer says you’d be strong again after a week. Or perhaps less if you can tolerate pain expertly. You seem to have a strong built.” she explained. “How did you come across this accident?”

Jon cleared his throat and placed the cup back to the small table. “We have just met. All I can tell you is that I came from a sailing ship that met a storm.”

She raised her brows again. “Judging by the swordbelt and ringmail when I found you, you are a soldier that bears no sigil. A sellsword, and a _bastard._ If you’re being honest.”

“Why should I lie to you?”

“Because we are strangers to each other and you clearly do not trust me, Jon Snow.” her tone was authoritative, judging. He suddenly found her pretty face intimidating as well.

“How can I trust you even for a scarce bit if you haven’t even told me your name?”

The woman bit her lower lip, eyes narrowing. She was scrutinizing him harder than ever, he realized that he just annoyed her. The pressure of her teeth made her lips pinkish, he wondered how it would feel like to kiss those lips. But she was as stubborn as he was, they don’t trust each other.

“You can call me Dany, Jon Snow. If I can appease you that way.” her tone shifted impassively.

The color in her cheeks, _Dany’s cheeks,_ began to glow pink, and she stood up abruptly to walk back to the oak table. “You have been eating little from the past day and a half. You seem to be awake but delirious to communicate and eat well.”

Dany walked back to him and sat on the edge of the bed. She was too close. The platter she was holding contained kippers, bread, and cheese. Jon forced himself to sit up, groaning as his body spasmed to new waves of pain. He received the platter of food and ate.

“Thank you, Dany. For saving me and accommodating me all this. I promise to repay you once I am fully healed.” he said sheepishly.

Dany merely nodded and stood up. From this angle he could almost see all the curves the conservative clothing could allow, but he pushed this at the back of his mind. She was a new friend, someone he should repay for her kindness. But she was mysterious, a stranger, somehow he couldn’t bring himself to ask her background. He was no one after all, and he cannot blame her for quickly deducing who he was. A smart, lovely creature.

“I have to leave, Jon Snow. If you need help a ward will immediately come to your room, just mutter _valar dohaeris._ ”

“ _Valar dohaeris.”_ he repeated.

“You cannot leave this room or inn, however. You wouldn’t want to be lost in the streets of Meereen, just yet.”

“Am I your prisoner?”

“Rescuing a stranded foreigner is different from imprisoning a rebel.” she replied nonchalantly, as if she was scolding a child.

Before she could turn the knob of the door, Jon called her again. With her name, as sweet as a summer fruit when he mutters it with his own lips. She turned to look at him, her face was soft and curious.

“Who are you and why did you help me?”

“I’m a citizen who helps and serves. And no, I don’t own this inn. I just happen to be a trusted camaraderie of the innkeeper, which is a merchant as well.” her smile was the sign of her departure. Jon took a quick glimpse of her silver tresses until the door was closed and she was gone. He wondered if she would come back again.

She did, everyday for the next three days. He asked about Essos and  she told him about the places he could visit if he wished to travel more. Then she asked about Westeros, in a way that she wanted to know the latest events in the country. But she didn’t stay for long, and sometimes their talks would be dull and too serious, a wall between them that he doesn’t have the right to break.

Dany did not visit for the fifth day, and he stayed brooding in that damned room. On the sixth day, he heard enthusiastic shouts and soldiers marching outside his window. Jon carefully slipped out of his bed and limped towards the window and opened the shutters. Two columns of about twenty men marched bearing a banner he recognized very well, a red three-headed dragon on a black field.

He has been spending company with the most beautiful and dangerous woman in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it is yet to appear in future chapters and appears on the tags, let me clarify Dany's sexual persona in this fic with an aid from the canon events.
> 
> Daenerys is bisexual in the books, as it appears in _A Storm of Swords,_ she had sex with one of her handmaidens because she was feeling lonely. Personally, I don't think her sexual orientation is entirely bisexual or anything gay since she only develops strong relationships with men in both the books and the show. Perhaps she only gave into having sexual relations with a woman because again, Dany felt lonely and to be honest, she's a really horny character. If you read the books, almost every chapter that has her POV contains a sexual reference or narrative pertaining to her character.
> 
> The main ship/s in this fic is completely heterosexual, and that is *drum roll* her relationship with Jon Snow, and the other males (secondary ship). Dany's encounters with other female characters may be a "friendly" sexual tension and only with that. Because again, Daenerys Targaryen has a strong sex appeal, everyone wants to kiss her figuratively and literally. And lastly, this fic is both based on the books and show, but is inclusive to all audiences to understand.
> 
> Feel free to discuss this in the comments section, I would answer and tackle with you as much as I can, thank you and see you around for the next chapter! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! Our Targaryen restoration must continue, my lords and ladies. #TeamTargaryenForever

**Daenerys**

Three brothers from the city of Tolos stood at the foot of the steps of the Great Pyramid’s throne. The eldest of the three, introduced themselves to be one of the wealthiest families residing in Tolos. Each of them stylized himself as _the Clever, the Strong, and the Charming._ The guests were eager to present themselves to Dany to pay their respects and courtesies, and to give her extravagant gifts of jewelries and ancient ornaments.

These materials however, were not the pride they brought. Each brother proposed an offer to her, an offer boasting trying to outdo the other, but all the same will complement the negotiations; the _Clever_ requests a seat in Dany’s council, promising her to proffer her with his wisdom both in warfare and economy, and being the wealthiest of the brothers, offers his fleet of a hundred ships. The _Strong_ subtly flexed his huge arms and drone on with a talk about his military skills and a strong presence as a commander, with an army of two thousand behind him that he claims to be more disciplined than the Unsullied. While the _Charming_ assures her of his family’s proud and powerful name, telling her that this deal will only be sealed if she marries him.

 _Men and their foolish promises._ These are still the same suitors who offer fleets and gold in exchange for her dragons and her hand in marriage. They speak of false love and admiration, overwhelmed with what she has, brainwashed with greed.

“I am flattered with your abundant offers, my lords. But I’m afraid arranged marriages cannot solve everything.” she said, forcing herself a stern smile.

The frustration did not successfully hide on the brothers’ faces, there was rage she saw as well when she thanked them again for the gifts and dismissed them. What was the use of boasting proposals? She had an army of Unsullied and Khalasar, three dragons, the fleet was the only problem to acquire. Even a hundred ships would not be enough to bear her host. There’s Grey Worm, the most loyal soldier and boldest commander she has ever met, Missandei, not only an advisor, but the closest thing to a sister. _The thought of Jorah Mormont sent a tied knot on her chest,_ she fought down the tears she didn’t want to fall from her eyes. For the offer of marriage, it wasn’t for a political reason and it was a petty waste of time. Men think a woman like her would whore herself to acquire the Iron Throne. That’s not her.

There is not much to seek for a warm embrace around her. Daario Naharis is a passionate lover, unafraid to express his affections. Dany didn’t want to say that he’s a mere paramour, as if she had time to ponder for her feelings.

Then she also have a secret of sorts, the brooding Jon Snow. Whom she finds a warm company, a good listener, with dark but tender eyes that pay attention to every movement she makes, a smile that traces his lips when she unintentionally lets out a laugh. No, Jon Snow is the least of her thoughts. That’s why she doesn’t spend much time when she checks up on him, sooner than later she knows that he will soon sail back to Westeros.

But the first time she saw him lying unconscious on the quietest beach of Meereen, Dany immediately thought of a spy or assassin sent to plot out an unfortunate fate for her. It was queer and stupid, would a foe really risk his life like that just to get near her? Dany’s enemies are desperate and angry, she is aware of spies and spiders, it is impossible for her enemies in Westeros to be uninformed of her whereabouts.

Exhausted from the day’s duties, Dany stood up just as the Unsullied lining the walls as guards became stiffer in her sudden movement.

Tyrion Lannister broke the silence at her right side. “Your Grace, the visitors who came -”

She turns to her Hand and cuts him off, “My apologies, my lord. But I am tired and wish to retire to my chambers. Any unresolved matters will be attended on the morrow. If they are not that urgent.”

“Sleep well, Your Grace.” said Tyrion, nodding politely.

Missandei followed suit when Dany climbed down the steps of the throne, not daring to take a glance at Daario. Dany gave a curt nod at Grey Worm, who bowed.

It was Dany’s favorite time of the day, her evening bath and supper before bed. She took a few bites of baked quail and a salad of nuts and greens, but the exhaustion of the day waned her appetite. Her handmaids went about to aid her with her bath. The handmaids filled the tub with goat’s milk, honey, and essential scented oils, and as she dipped to the silky liquid, she almost dozed off. She sent her servants away and dressed herself alone with a thin robe. Upon entering her main sleeping quarters, she gasped in surprise at the sight of Daario Naharis already half naked, drinking a cup of wine.

Before Dany could do more, Daario strode towards her with eager long legs and pulled her for a kiss. Dany’s mouth reciprocated his ministrations without her telling it to. His hand reached beneath the silk of her robe and cupped her breast, but she gently pushed him away on his chest in response. Daario stared at her.

“I didn’t summon you here.” she said flatly.

“You allowed me access in your quarters anytime, as I recall, Your Grace.”

“I did not say all the time. And I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

“Then let me help you sleep. Warm you up with my embrace through the night.”

Daario moved to envelope her again in his arms. His hard and sculpted chest was pleasing to touch, yes. An embrace by another person does ten times comfort than rich furs and coverlets. _But it’s not Daario I want to see and feel against my skin._

He must have feel her recoil in his touch, unresponsive to his warmth. Daario’s frown deepened to frustration and confusion. “I watched you closely today.” he said.

Dany merely looked up at him, wishing for him to stop being loquacious even just for once, not all flowery men talked with pure intentions to win a woman’s heart and just to taste the place between her legs. Definitely not her.

“You seem troubled, my queen. I should have come here to you from the past few nights and days, we haven’t made love for awhile.’

“Physical pleasure is not the answer for everything, Daario. Now please leave, before I force my guards on you.”

“So you really are troubled. Do tell me if it would help to comfort you.” he urged.

“It’s not for you to hear, women would understand it more.” she blurted out, surprised with herself.

A moment later, she knew what to do next, and was sure of it. Dany dismissed him again and he obeyed at once, must be sensing her annoyance. She waited for several minutes to make sure that Daario was well far away from her chambers and ordered the guards for Missandei. When she arrived, Dany went to give her a hug. Her friend looked at her incredulously, reading anxiety on the queen’s eyes.

“I have to tell you something. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.” said Dany.

“I have promised myself to you since you have freed me, Your Grace.”

* * *

Daenerys Targaryen felt like a five-year-old who knew how to exercise her authority with mischief. It was strange, to corporate all these things together. The dark sky stretched out above her as one soldier helped her to mount her silver mare. It could be another hour more before the first streaks of dawn will appear on the horizon.

Dany  departed the Great Pyramid through a secret tunnel that leads to a maze of shortcuts on the city, the pathways she used when she visited Jon Snow. Missandei and a couple of Unsullied guards accompanied her to her “unnecessary” midnight adventure, to which Dany’s friend half heartedly refused, pointing out the dangers that might happen. Dany was aware of this, and she also wasn’t aware of this. Some of the household residents of the Pyramid including Daario has been acting suspicious around her during her daytime strolls around the city. Dany wanders the quiet shores of the beach and serene cobblestones occasionally at night escorted with a few guards, but then her little trips became frequent and seem to be following a routine.

Whatever the reason that urged her to do this, she blames Jon Snow. She stopped doing it for a time to avoid further suspicions, but now she just can’t help herself. Dany instructed Missandei and the two guards to dress in casual garb, with dirks hidden behind the Unsullied’s tunics for unwanted circumstances.

“Stay a couple of blocks away from the inn. If I don’t come back for twenty minutes, follow suit.” she repeated the instruction she told them earlier.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to escort you, my queen? Even just one of us.” said the guard named Silk Rat in Valyrian.

“No more. I can ride the horse myself fast enough, and I know the way. It will be morning soon, don’t worry.”

Dany wheeled her horse and urged it to a gallop. She turned and turned to narrow pathways, the hooves echoing against the stone walls of the city. Every building, store, and house had their shutters closed, the only light was from the moon and stars above. Several Unsullied patrol the city, and if Dany ever needed them, one is sure to be near. Besides, Dany kept a dagger tucked in the belt of her dress for herself, its pommel sculpted to a head of a dragon with red rubies for its eyes, hoping she won’t use it tonight.

The city seemed to have grown quieter when Dany reached the alley of the inn. She held the reins tighter but urged the mare to a walk. Dany looked behind her, but saw no signs of movement. Her hand slipped into her cloak to hold the dagger’s hilt. Before she could pass a pile of crates, three figures emerged from it and she instinctively pulled the reins hard, the horse screeching and kicking on its front legs. Dany heard a loud thud that she can’t distinguish if the mare kicked something, _or someone_ , that fell to the ground.

The horse reared again, and there was a sickening crunch that sounded like breaking bones. Dany gasped as she fell from the saddle. It was dark, but not dark enough to obscure shadows. One of the attackers, who has one arm disfigured in an odd angle came crawling towards her. She pulled the dagger from its scabbard and sat up to plunge it onto the man’s neck. Blood squirted all over her and the ground messily, she pushed the body away from her just in time to see the two remaining attackers look at something behind her.

The men only wielded daggers, and they do not have the weapon nor skill against a longsword. A new companion, friend or foe she does not know, came from behind her and slashed his sword against the attackers. He stabbed one of them and cut the other one’s hand off until he brandished it again in a final blow by slitting his throat.

Dany stared agape, her heart beating fast. _This is the dumbest decision I’ve ever done in my entire life._ She kept her firm hold on her own dagger. The man turned around and in the faint light she saw that it was Jon Snow. He rushed to her and helped her back to her feet. His eyes fell on the man she had killed, and she looked back at the golden mask the Sons of the Harpy were known for. _Were._

“I thought they were all gone, this was all done.” she whispered.

“What?”

She turned to look at him, all sorts of questions written all over his face. She saw that his arm was bleeding, a fresh new wound courtesy to her stupidity. Dany slashed at her cloak with her dagger for a rough piece of cloth and wrapped it around his bleeding arm.

“It’s not a huge and deep cut, but we have to attend to it.”

“Dany, I - my lady…” Jon stammered, and fell to his knees before her.

“The lessons and talk I’ve heard since I was child came slow, _my lady._ But I do know the Targaryens possess Valyrian features, do they not?” he said, looking down at the floor.

“ _Jon.”_

Her tone was unsure, as well as his eyes when he looked up at her again. “I apologize, but I do believe I must explain everything first. Arise.”

Jon stood up and backed away for one step to keep a polite distance between them.

“We ought to return to your rooms in the inn.” she stated.

“No, my lady. It is not safe for you here, I’ll return you to your castle, or wherever you live here.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s a small cut like you said. Your blood is regarded to be higher and more important than mine.”

Without waiting for an answer Jon Snow took her hand and led her back to her mount. She was surprised when his hands came to her waist and he lifted her up to sit sideways on the saddle.

“This saddle can only sit one person.”

“Please my lady, move a bit and I’ll adjust, I’ll command the horse.”

“This is my horse.” she retorted.

“I’m taller than you, my lady.”

Jon Snow mounted the horse beside her in her annoyance. Eventually, the hairs on her arms prickled and she almost held her breath when his arms came around her to hold the reins. He urged the mare forward to a walk.

“Tell me the directions.”

“Keep straight ahead and turn right when you see the pasture of goats right ahead. We’re on a shortcut, but we have to pass a city tunnel first.” she reached up to pull back the hood to cover her face.

Jon nodded and hummed in submission when she told him the directions. The both of them kept on looking around, wary for more attackers. The rest of the moments were awkward silence, and she waited for him to crack open a question. Since he’s the one who hasn’t been fed the appropriate information, she is obliged to answer, but still she waited.

“You’re Daenerys Targaryen.” he said finally, breaking her from her reverie when she watched a mother dove tend to her chicks on a nearby nest. She realized that he just stopped the horse. She turned at him, and could hear his slow breath and heartbeat at this silent darkness. His arms tense around her.

“Yes. And please keep your voice down, people are sleeping and killers may be still leering.”

“My apologies. The stories circulating around Westeros, I should be calling you _Your Grace._ ”

“What are those stories?”

“That you have three dragons, and ruling somewhere in Essos. I don’t think the lords and ladies and the regent monarch pay attention much to you, Westeros has its own chaos the people themselves had created. Unlike here.”

Dany turned away and frowned scornfully, _they don’t care, do they?_ She tried to push down her temper, thankful for the dawn coming late to obscure her face.

“And what’s that difference?”

“It’s peaceful here, and hotter.” he chuckled.

She took that as a compliment and looked at him again. “A peace I rendered a few moons ago. I will tell you more, perhaps. We must get to the Pyramid soon.”

Pale golden light shined amongst the establishments and roads when they arrived at the spot where she left her companions. Dany read surprise in Missandei’s eyes, but she knew how to hide the rest on her face. The Unsullied stood in a defensive stance, hands slipped inside their cloaks obviously about to pull out their own dirks at the sight of a stranger riding Dany’s silver mare.

“He’s a friend. Take the horses you brought with you and we will ride back.” she commanded.

Still, Dany kept the cloak to her face as people went out and about with the day’s businesses. Vendors, buyers, and children alike did not seem to bother themselves with Dany’s company. A few gave them odd glances, as Jon was the only person whose face was exposed. Dany pulled her hood down when they reached the main gates, and they are admitted into the yard.

A healer came a few moments later at her request, bowing down and looking oddly at Jon.

“Tend to this man’s wounds. Accommodate him to one of the Pyramid’s modest rooms.” she turned to Jon, “I will speak with you later.” she told him subtly.

Dany proceeded to her own chambers to wash and dress. Her ever loyal handmaids, Irri and Jhiqui, thought that she claimed a terrible wound and started crying in Dothraki. Dany sighed and assured them, and cursed herself silently for getting herself into this ridiculous outcome. They scrubbed her clean from the sticky blood, its color making the the contents of the tub pink as it mingled with the sweet milk and oils. As her handmaids laced the blue summer dress with a belt, Tyrion Lannister came asking permission to enter her quarters. Dany met him outside the hall.

“Your Grace, are you well?” he started, walking towards her as if to grasp her hands, then stepped away awkwardly.

“More than well. Tell the others the council meeting will be in an hour. We might dine there as well.” she replied, suddenly feeling hungry.

Dany came down to the wing of healers, a guard leading her to Jon Snow’s room. She knocked, and pushed the door open. The room smelled of herbs and oils, and Jon Snow sat on the edge of the bed, a healer wrapping a bandage on his arm. She nodded at the healer, requesting for a time alone with his patient.

When the door closed, Jon was on one knee again, his head bowed.

“You don’t have to bend your knee everytime you see me, Jon Snow.”

He stood up. “Pardon me, Your Grace.”

“I should be telling you that. I didn’t tell you immediately who I was. I thought -” _that you were a spy or an assassin or another usurper._ “I could leave the innkeeper to attend to you. But I have to see so myself. If I didn’t, I’d be dead without you.”

“As am I.” he said, his voice hoarse. “Who are those men? Why did they want to kill you?”

“Men want me dead, Jon Snow. Robert Baratheon used to be on the top of ranks of my killers. Those we encountered call themselves the Sons of the Harpy. They were slavers before, who ruled Slaver’s Bay and ruled over thousands and thousands of lives to keep themselves wealthy and comfortable through slavery. Until I came and liberated the imprisoned, protected the weak, broke their chains. I faced them a few moons ago, destroyed most of their fleet. Those who still aims to bring back the chains onto submissive necks. Yunkai and Astapor got the messages, and I thought I’ve already fixed it.”

“You have. You destroyed slavery, you have sent out the the message to those masters. But maybe, there’s a few of them left who are still trying.” he said slowly, as if he was picking out the words carefully.

“Few? All my life men were sent out to kill me. Is that few?” she realized she was choking back tears. Dany took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. _A queen must stand strong for her people._ Jon Snow is from Westeros, the tale of her dragons surely came to his ears. She would not show him how weak she could be. “I cannot let my people down, Jon Snow. Not even those I intend to rule in Westeros.”

“I think you rule better here, Your Grace. In all honesty Westeros is a dung pile of shit, yes, your ancestors may have conquered and established the Iron Throne. But everywhere else in that damned country people are raising banners and swords against each other. But that is what you want Your Grace, I do not have the power nor the right to berate your intentions, but I do know one thing.”

Jon Snow grabbed his swordbelt from the bed, and unsheathed his sword from its scabbard. For a moment Dany thought he was going to attack her and her hand flew to the door knob, but he knelt again, laying down his sword before her feet.

“I owe you my life, you saved me from the horrors of the sea. I will take more wounds and shed more blood to protect you, Your Grace. My life and my sword are all yours.” he said, looking up at her, dark eyes shining with admiration.

Dany’s hand fell from the bronze knob and relaxed at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Dany accept Jon's fealty? Yes? No? Maybe?
> 
> A little flashback: Dany's handmaids died in season 2, but they are still alive in the books. Again, this is based on both resources and things may be altered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small revelation, kind of. ;)

**Jon**

Several hours after the queen left the wing, a guard came to his room to escort Jon to the barracks located outside the Pyramid. It was early afternoon, his skin prickling at the hot glare of the sun and he was sweating profusely. He was grateful when they finally entered the barracks. The room had three single beds, and he was led to the farthest corner of the room where a new set of garb was placed on his bed.

None of the guards talked to him, he supposed all of them spoke the native language used here, one that he doesn’t even recognize. One servant came afterwards to him, a boy no older than fifteen who spoke the Common Tongue in a heavy accent.

“You wash and wear clothes the queen requesting for you to be present guards will come again.” the boy said hastily. Before Jon could mutter a word of thanks after that vague message the boy strode towards the door and left.

Jon supposed the boy meant to “take a bath” and dress, the boy seemed to be a new student to the Common Tongue. He did as he was told, and when he opened the door again two guards were already waiting for him. Jon even wondered if these guards who wield a spear and shield are real humans, they all march in a synchronized manner, their eyes trained ahead in one direction, even those they had passed did not pay attention to him. It makes no sense for him to throw them questions as they have a communication barrier, Jon has no other choice but to follow them.

The Pyramid has high windows and ceilings, and everywhere the sunlight touches it becomes brighter and flourished with gold. Jon found it an airy and elegant place compared to the North’s gloomy and intimidating castles. They turned to a grand hallway that looked like the widest corridor in the Pyramid. In the middle of the hallway, a brighter golden light basked the outer hall that made him look to find what was in that room. For a quick glance, Jon saw the room had higher windows with a high flight of steps in the middle of the room that has a slab of dark marble that looks like a seat. A throne room.

That was not their destination however, and they took series upon series of stairs that made him catch his breath. At last, they came upon another corridor that ends with two grand oak doors. The guards stood attentively in either side of the doors and one of them opened it for Jon. Stepping inside the antechamber, two more guards stood guarding a bronze door that muffles the sounds coming inside, and was once again opened for him. He heard voices and followed the sound.

“...could be at your disposal.” said a man with a paternal voice.

“I’ve told you a million times already. Do you wonder why I stationed him at the outer barracks?” replied Daenerys Targaryen impatiently.

“Among with your first set of soldiers.” said another man’s voice.

“What’s the difference -”

Daenerys abruptly stopped talking when she saw Jon. She sat at the center of the table, wearing a pale blue dress with a neckline, _it’s not even a neckline anymore,_ dipping past her cleavage, her hair styled in a dozen braids atop her head, and a necklace with its pendant fashioned in a head of a dragon. Though beautiful as she was when words cannot describe, Jon found her even more intimidating as she sat there in such a regal composure.

Two men sat on either side of her the on the round table. On her right, sat a man with blond curls and his notorious distinctive height, Tyrion Lannister. On her left was a man with dark hair as thick as his beard who was looking back at Jon curiously. His hand was resting on the hilt of his _arakh,_ as if he thought Jon to be a foe.

“Allow me to introduce our new member of the army formally. This is Jon Snow. Jon Snow, this is Tyrion of House Lannister, the Hand of the Queen. You might know him.” said Daenerys, then gestured to the other man. “And this is Daario Naharis, lieutenant of the sellsword company the Second Sons.”

Jon bowed at her and regarded Tyrion the same courtesies. “My lord Tyrion.” Jon nodded at Daario Naharis.

“Lord?” said Daario, pointing Tyrion with a tart that he was eating.

“Did I ever mention to you that I come from the wealthiest and most contemptuous family in Westeros, Daario Naharis? Sellswords like you are fond with gold.” he turned to Jon and climbed down the small steps towards him and offered his hand for a shake. Jon took it.

“I heard you come from Westeros, Jon Snow. I gave a perfect description of my house, did I not?”

“Quite, my lord.” said Jon politely.

Daenerys quipped, “Come to the table and take a seat, Jon Snow. Apple tarts and fruit salads are served this afternoon.”

“You are too kind, Your Grace.”

“Please, Jon. The cooks outdo themselves everyday, help us consume this lot.” said Tyrion.

Tyrion rejoins the table, and Jon follows behind when the lord took his seat. Jon sits across Daenerys. A servant came with additional platter and cup for Jon, and Tyrion proceeds by grabbing a flagon to pour wine for him, the sweet scent attracting Jon as much as the delicacies served on the table.

“Fine gold from the Arbor, Jon. The best thing you will taste in your whole life.” said Tyrion, pouring a cup for himself and he raises it in Jon’s direction. Jon takes his own cup and toasts it with Tyrion. Jon lingers his lips for a moment near the cup until Tyrion almost finishes the whole cup, and Jon takes a sip. The wine was not too sweet and not too strong, a mild but wonderful taste.

“So,” started Tyrion, “Please do tell us the tale of how you came to Meereen.”

Jon told them the full story of the accident during the storm. He had told this to the queen on the first few days of his recovery, but she still listened all the while.

“I am sorry for your losses, surely you had friends there. But what nags me is your name. Take no offense Jon, but clearly you are a bastard from the North. Do you know your parents?” asked Tyrion. The question that he dreaded to slip from the queen’s lips during those days that she went to him. An embarrassing tale to tell her, at least in private.

He looked at Tyrion. “My father is Harrion Karstark, and my mother, well - the old maid who raised me said that she was the Karstarks’ master-at-arms daughter and brought me to my father when I was born, claiming that I was his. She disappeared after a few moons when my father regarded me as his son in unknown reasons. And her father, my grandfather, was found dead in a river after she had gone. My identity was kept a secret in the North, everywhere, though my father was aware of me.” he told them as impassive as he can.

“Do you still see your father?” asked Daenerys.

“He died fighting for Robb Stark a few years ago, Your Grace.”

“I’m sorry, Jon.” she said sadly.

Her voice rang in his ears. That was the second time that she called him only by his first name. It sounded so sweet, even better than the wine they were drinking. He found himself looking at her, he studied the curves of her shoulders and her collarbone and the flesh on her chest, her silvery blonde hair shining brightly from the sunlight, she was a goddess come true to life. He mourned for his father years ago, but this present moment, the queen’s violet eyes was a safe haven, from the look she was giving him he knew that she was sharing his old grief and empathy.

“...is responsible for such a loss. With men declaring themselves as kings that time.” Tyrion said to his left. Jon realized that he has been looking at Daenerys for a long time now, that he lost the track of conversation. They were all looking at him expectantly. Jon bowed his head to save himself and feign an ever present grief.

“Truly war is costly, especially with lives. But there’s hope to move on, Jon.” continued Tyrion.

“I agree, my lord.”

“And that part is welcoming you to the Targaryen banners.” said Daario, still looking at him curiously but with a clever smile on his face this time. Jon looked at the queen, she nodded.

“I appreciate you swearing fealty to me. I’m assigning you to the household guard, and the barracks that was shown to you earlier will be your new home.” she stated.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I will gladly serve you at your cause.”

Daenerys took her own cup of wine and took a sip. “As for the recent attack, I will send over small troops of all Unsullied, Dothraki, and even the Second Sons to patrol the city. This is the same protocol that we did not so long ago, look for them again. Not just once, but everyday until we dig the roots of this. I won’t see the blood of my people stained on the streets that they hold no account for. And Jon, you will be joining this task.”

“I thought he’s part of the household guard?” asked Daario, raising his brows.

“That command was not given to you, lieutenant.” she snapped back. “Give Jon Snow the chance to familiarize himself around the city. You might need his help as well, every soldier counts, and so are drops of blood.”

The queen’s protocols grew firmer every passing day. Jon accompanied groups of guards that Dany made sure at least one of them can speak the Common Tongue, even slightly. They were assigned in different groups everyday to scan different areas on the city. Jon had a map of Meereen with him to aid him in memorizing the city’s streets, alleys, and corners. He would observe the routine of the people. The merchants yelling for the customers’ jingle of coins, the docks crowded with fishermen and travellers alike. Somehow, Jon cannot retrace the beach and the inn where he met Daenerys, the streets and alleyways that they rode that day of the attack are clearly not drawn on the map he held.

The search parties would report to the throne room one by one at the end of the day, their distress and frustration mirroring their queen’s face. Jon would watch her face fall in anxiety and anger all at once, but she still maintained her composure despite the failures of the search. He even caught Daario twice or thrice talking to her with an eager expression like he was pleading for something very important, but she would shake her head and leave the throne room with her handmaids trailing close behind her.

After a fortnight of restless search that Jon found almost hopeless, he was summoned to the queen’s council chambers. When he arrived he found Tyrion Lannister scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, Grey Worm, the commander of the Unsullied, stood near the terrace doors talking to Missandei, and the queen was listening intently at Daario, who was leaning so close to her Jon thought they were kissing before he walked in. A blush crept up at his neck at the thought of it.

“Jon Snow, please take a seat.” she said, gesturing at the chair across her.

Grey Worm and Missandei halted their conversation and stood straight facing the queen’s direction, Tyrion placed his quill on the bottle of ink, and Daenerys moves farther from Daario, and looked at them each in return.

“The search has became feeble, I see that. We do not know if that was the last of the slave masters or they had gone into hiding again after a failed attempt.” said Daenerys.

“They might strike again in the most unexpected moment like what happened in the fighting pits.” said Tyrion cautiously.

“That I won’t let happen again. Might I know any crimes done with your inspection?”

Jon shifted in his seat. “Still peaceful, Your Grace. There are no reported deaths done by murder, No crime done that could arise suspicion.” he said.

“Very well. You will patrol the city one last time today, but that I did not mean _the last time_. Security will still be doubled but not as heavy as the one done from the past weeks.”

“If you would allow me and my companions, Your Grace, but I would like to see the - ah, the outer but quieter areas of the city myself. But I’m afraid I cannot trace it with my own map.” he said sheepishly.

The queen’s brows narrowed in confusion. “Well the place, where you found me. Near the beach.” he continued, feeling stupid.

Daario tapped his hand on the table and turned to the queen. “What route did you ride last time, Your Grace?”

The queen’s face lit up. “Meereen’s shortcuts are not on the map, perhaps I ought to have someone draw a new map soon. Are you familiar with these routes, Daario?”

“Of course.” he replied, smiling from ear to ear.

“Then gather a few men with you and Jon Snow shall join your scouts.”

Jon looked at Daario, who was also looking at him sternly. They nodded at the queen.

“Before we adjourn and you set off for the search, I’m sending a hundred men each to Yunkai and Astapor on the morrow. Search the cities for two weeks perhaps, and twenty shall ride back to deliver reports. Daario, you will lead the van to Yunkai.”

Daario frowned. “You didn’t tell me earlier -”

“Well the queen just told you. We must act soon enough before this rampage returns to Meereen. We have not heard from the other great cities since the attack, and we all know that Her Grace left enemies there, if they remained unruly.” said Tyrion.

For the next several minutes, Jon Snow found Daario Naharis quite both a man of words and a  soldier of real swords. According to his stories, perhaps. There are times when they rode in awkward silence side by side. The two led the group mixed with both Unsullied and Daario’s Second Sons.

Upon reaching the end of the designated long alleyway of stone houses, the two men dismounted their horses and walked along street. Three more guards accompanied them while Daario ordered the rest to stay and watch over the horses. Their group turned to more alleys, narrower than ever. Until they came to a street of merchants selling cheap wine, jewelries made of seashells and beach stones, fruits, and gamblers sprawled on low tables shouting for bets. Jon looks at one gambler who has a sack tied across his torso and inside the bag a glint of gold caught his eye. When Jon moved his eyes to look at the man’s face, he was staring back at him with wide eyes and jumped over to shove Jon sending him to tumble down with the rest of the guard behind him.

Jon rushed with Adrenaline and ran chasing the man. Jon pulls his dagger out and throws, hitting the man on the calf. He falls with a loud thud, and Jon pins him to the ground. Daario had caught up with them.

“What did you find with him?” asked Daario.

“Open his sack.”

The guards had the man’s wrists in manacles behind his back and Jon pulls him roughly to his feet. Daario takes the man’s sack and pulls out the golden mask of the Sons of the Harpy.

“Don’t kill him. We’re bringing back a gift.” said Daario proudly.

They rode back to the Pyramid with the captive walking behind them with his ankles and wrists in chains. Jon thought the queen shall do the questioning with the council, and Daario might have thought the same as they both paid no attention to the man aside from throwing glances at his chained body parts.

On the ride back, Jon imagined Daenerys finally abandoning her frustrated expression even for awhile, albeit a single capture, it was progress nonetheless. Compared to him, Daario looked rather haughty with it like he was on his way to the queen to give her flowers, despite Jon _did the actual capture_. Jon Snow might be inexperienced, but he was not ignorant. He sees the way Daario Naharis looks at the Daenerys, and the both of them seem like they were going on some unfinished lovers’ quarrel even though she could hide it with her queenly face. Some uneasy heat came rushing on Jon’s neck again, he wanted to blame the sunlight for such blush.

“Will you look at it, Jon. The moment the queen put the two of us together in the last minute, we found a chest of gold. Coincidence?”

“Maybe. I hope she will be pleased, at least.” Jon replied hopefully, thinking of Daenerys’ reaction, but not looking at Daario.

“Oh, she will. I know her, there are many _ways_ to please the queen and this is one.”

Jon made himself to look at Daario to find him smirking. Jon’s hands on the reins of his horse tightened their grip.

“She’s hard to please, that’s true. But you’ll do anything to make her happy, someone like her deserves everything.” continued Daario.

“She’s kind, passionate, and merciful. She’s already willing to give _everything_ for the good of her people under her rule. I’d do anything to support her, if that’s what makes her happy. As we are both bound to her service, my lord.” Jon said half dreamily.

“ _Lord._ ” Daario stressed the word. “You Westerosis like to uphold yourselves with titles and lands. It won’t matter once a sword is placed in your hand, and you will dare fight back to protect yourself, or to protect those who belong to you.” he continued sternly.

“Those you possess? Or those you love and serve?” Jon asked, giving him a long look. “And pardon me, Daario Naharis. I fight for what is right, not in vain.”

Suddenly, a loud screeching sound came overhead. Jon crouched his head and reined his horse to a sudden halt, thinking that some wild creature was to attack behind him. Looking up at the sky, two dragons flew together, their wings synchronized in a majestic but dangerous dance up above. He watched them in awe with undeniable trepidation. The might of the Targaryens. _Fire, blood, dragons._

Daario was smirking again. “The queen attracts love and loyalty so easily and smoothly. It’s impossible not to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why I wrote Jon Snow as a Karstark bastard:  
> Some of you have been saying that he could easily be a Dayne instead. A lot of fics choose this concept. I wanted him to be far away from the Targaryen bloodline as far as possible. Ned Stark had been rumored to be linked to Ashara Dayne, and House Dayne is bannermen to the Martells, which the latter is a closely knotted to House Targaryen; (marriage is what made Dorne the seventh kingdom, as we all know, and Rhaegar Targaryen was married to one.)
> 
> But Karstark is literally a house rooted from House Stark, are they not? However, centuries made bloodlines lesser and lesser. Jon's lineage is not a significant concept in this fic, though. He is a northern bastard, not a Targaryen, just a pure breed of the North. The full details of his parentage has already been revealed in this chapter, I assure you.
> 
> And two dragons? That means Drogon must be lurking somewhere...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogues. Lots of dialogues.
> 
> I'm really anxious about this chapter. Writing this has only proved more that Daenerys Targaryen is the most complicated character in the series. I can't even determine if I made her OOC in this chapter. She thinks too much, doesn’t she?

**Daenerys**

Rhaegal and Viserion circled the skies. Their enormous shadows dancing in reflection on the city of Meereen, and their mother watched them from the terrace of the Pyramid, a bright smile on her face that will seem to last until the end of time. She could stay like that, with her dragons. Even though she didn’t have an army, titles, or a famous name to behold. _The Mother of Dragons_ suits her well. _I could live somewhere far away with my children and tend my own little farm beside a cozy little cottage._

She cannot do what she pleases all the time, however. She has an impending task to make the world better. There are men and women who deserve fair lives, children who should be laughing and playing, there are lots of them, and there’s only one of her. Who else could do it? If she leaves Essos, there could be a possibility that slavery will be reborn, but then there’s the Seven Kingdoms that were stolen from her family.

A family that she had barely known. Viserys was the only family she had ever met, and wasn’t a brother to her.

Her smile faded from her face, and she walked back inside to the council chamber, to where Tyrion Lannister was pouring himself the third cup of wine for the day, according to her count.

“Tell me about your brother.” she said quietly.

Tyrion looked up, surprised with the queer request. “How so, Your Grace? It would be quite awkward to hear tales of the man who killed your father. I do not wish to harm your feelings.”

“My father was an evil man, but I never met him.” she sat down beside him. “Can you tell me...tell me about your bond with your brother?”

Tyrion took a long swig and made for the flagon again and poured a cup for her and then for himself.

“Jaime was the only relative who loved me. The rest, as for my father and sister who are the top contenders, would find me conveniently dead than alive. I am no loss to them. But to my brother…” he took a sip of wine. “Jaime was gifted with a talent for violence, he has the cruel personality of a Lannister. But he has a soft spot for me, he knew his brother as I know him. If it wasn’t for him, Your Grace, I wouldn’t be sitting here beside you right now telling you this while I consume all of the wine here.” he touched the Hand’s pin on his chest. “And I wouldn’t be honored to bear this.”

She gave him a small smile, and looked away. Afraid to show him her glassy eyes, and swallowed a lump in her throat to fight down any upcoming tears.

“From time to time Viserys would cross my mind. I wouldn’t be the person I am today, if it weren’t for the stories he told me.”

“Like what?”

“His plan to restore our family’s legacy, the Iron Throne, all of it. He gave me a vision.”

Dany looked at Tyrion sadly, as he was looking back with the same expression on his face. Viserys might not had been the brother she wanted, but at the end he left a pathway for her to follow, but it was her own choice on how will she travel it.

“Do you remember the advice you told me the first time I met you? You said I should forget the Iron Throne.”

“And I will tell you that again if you’ll ask me for the wisest advice I could give you this moment.”

“Why?”

“Tell me, Daenerys, do you know the people of Westeros?”

Her brows arched in slight annoyance, she doesn’t know if that was because he addressed her in her name or the question itself. “Do you take me for an ignorant?”

“No, Your Grace. I am asking you, do you know them well enough for you to rule over them? Let’s start with the great families, who would support your claim if they are at each other’s necks themselves? Last time I was there I killed my own father while my family was still facing enemies from the north, south, east, and west.”

“The people will be inspired again once they see the dragon banners flying.”

“They already are. But not Westeros. Go out on the terrace and look again. You came to these lands to free slaves and defend the weak, which you did. You conquered them by eradicating the cruel system of slavery with their masters. You already are ruling over the people you have saved.”

Dany looked at him for a moment, then looked behind her. She could not see the skyline of the city from this sitting position, but she has seen it for thousands of times since she set foot on Meereen, she can imagine it. The world she had freed.

“Are you telling me that I should just abandon the conquest that I’ve been partaking my entire life?”

Tyrion shrugged, and waved his hands over her as if he was blessing her. “You are a queen. A queen rules over her people, her home. Now tell me, Daenerys, what blood _flows_ in your veins?”

Before Dany could answer, they heard the doors open which snapped their heads in attention. Grey Worm walked in and bowed.

“Daario Naharis has returned, my queen. They bring a prisoner with them.”

“Where are they?”

“They are only arriving, Your Grace.”

“Bring them to the audience chamber.”

Dany shot to her feet and Tyrion came striding with difficulty beside her. Her heart was beating fast, both in the anticipation of this Harpy mystery and the fact that she was walking briskly along the golden corridors of the Pyramid. The audience chamber was a circular room with three floor to ceiling windows that have bronze window panes criss crossed creating diamond shapes that shadowed the middle of the room.

Dany stood at the head of the table and waited. A few moments later, a series of heavy footsteps grew nearer and the doors were opened, a couple of guards filled into the room holding a man in chains between them. Daario followed behind. Dany felt her chest knot in worry, she barely looked at the captive first.

“Where’s Jon Snow?”

Daario’s face quickly contorted from his usual sly grin to a confused expression. As if her voice summoned him, Jon Snow came following them and dropped a rucksack on the floor. Her heart went back to its place. He bowed his head upon seeing her.

“You forgot this.” he gestured to the bag.

“What use of it? We have this.” Daario said, holding up the golden mask.

Tyrion walked towards the bag and bent over, Dany focused her attention to the captive. He looked to be in his early forties, thick brown hair, blue eyes, a small scar lingering above his brow. He was looking anywhere in the room but her, his hands shaking but it seemed as if he was forcing himself to stay calm. Dany’s mind ran into a hundred different directions.

“He doesn’t look like someone from the east.” she said quietly, her voice rang in the room aside from the nervous cling of his chains.

Dany walked around the table to examine him closer, he bows his head and stepped back.

“I could say the same thing, Your Grace.” Tyrion said to her left.

He was holding a pin fashioned in a head of a boar. Tyrion looked at the man closely then at Dany. He held up the pin for her to examine. “The boar is the sigil of House Crakehall, bannerman to House Lannister.”

“Please - m’lord Tyrion, please.” the man stammered.

“What is a Lannister scout doing in Essos, with a Sons of the Harpy mask?” asked Tyrion.

“Meant...meant...to threat - m’lord, please don’t kill me...I did not think…”

“Look at me.” Dany said sternly.

He did, tears springing in his eyes. “You will answer our questions with honesty. Otherwise, try not to imagine the fate awaiting for you.”

He nodded. “Yes...yes, Your Grace. But please…”

“I will hear your pleading if I’m satisfied with your answers. What is your name?”

“Lucas, Your Grace.”

Outside, the dragons screeched. The man shook harder than ever.

“Lucas, do you confirm Tyrion Lannister’s discovery of your pin? Do you serve House Lannister?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I belong to House Crakehall’s army.”

“Under whose command?”

“The queen.”

“Which queen?” quipped Tyrion.

“Your sister, m’lord.” he was sweating profusely he looked like he just stepped out of the water to bathe in his clothes.

“Why did she send you here in disguise as a member of the Sons of the Harpy?” asked Dany, crossing her arms.

“To spy, and to kill if necessary. Olenna Tyrell.”

“She ordered you to kill Lady Olenna? Why? And why here?” asked Tyrion.

“Her kin are gone, m’lord. Queen Cersei had the Great Sept of Baelor burned in wildfire, with Queen Margaery and Ser Loras and the rest of them. They are dead. Lady Olenna went missing afterwards, Highgarden is vacant. Your sister sent men all over the Seven Kingdoms to look for her, and presumed that she might have also attempted to travel here in Essos. She now sits on the Iron Throne, King Tommen jumped from the Red Keep after the destruction.”

Tyrion dropped the pin, the metal clanging to the floor loudly. He looked away. If they were to hear of this news, the first informer would have been Varys, she didn’t imagine to hear it this way.

“You did not answer my question. Why choose this disguise?” Dany motioned to the mask Daario was still holding.

“I do not know, Your Grace. A part of the her orders. Perhaps Queen Cersei was thinking Lady Olenna might be in contact with you...an alliance, aid. All I’ve heard about that mask is that ah - well, your enemies. They wear that, don’t they? Pardon me to ask a stupid question, Your Grace. I don’t know.”

“Did she tell orders to kill me as well?”

“Not exactly. But - but she said kill everyone if needed. Everybody.”

Dany could not speak nor move for a few moments that felt like hours. She turned away and looked up at the intersecting windows. The silhouette of her dragons flying outside made it look like a moving painting.  Tyrion resumed with the questioning.

“How many of you were sent here?”

“A dozen, m’lord.”

Dany looked up. Essos is a continent way too large for only a dozen assassins to navigate it. “Only in Meereen?” she asked.

“Bravos, Volantis, and Pentos...I do not know the rest. Your Grace, please…” he stammered.

“Bring him to the dungeons, make sure guards are stationed there all day and night.”

The guards led him out of the room, his manacles ringing loudly. Jon Snow made a step to follow them, but Dany called him and commanded him to stay. When the doors closed, the three men looked at each other uncomfortably. Dany turned to Tyrion. “My lord Hand, I’m sorry about your nephew.”

Tyrion’s eyes widened, then bowed sadly. He looked surprised that she expressed condolence to a Lannister. Tommen Baratheon is just a child, after all.

“Jon Snow, before you sailed for Essos, what was the state of Westeros?” she asked, looking expectantly at him. He looked back at her like he was a puppy, his eyes drifting to Tyrion as if he was asking for some conversational aid.

“From the gossips drifting anywhere, King Tommen had the Crown and the Faith merge together. The Septon - well, the High Sparrow they call him, has the right to execute the laws and its punishments.” he explained.

“Seven hells.” Tyrion muttered under his breath.

“It seems like my enemies are coming to pay me a visit.” said Dany.

“There are no declarations of wars yet, Your Grace. As of now at least. Lady Olenna, the last living member of House Tyrell must be the only looming enemy of my sweet sister. And sadly,” he cleared his throat. “House Tyrell was the only ally I believed that could support your claim. Cersei will not act on attack unless you set sail for Westeros. The great lords and ladies are not aware -”

“That I exist?” she finished for him. “Excuse me. I - I think I need a moment alone.” She strode towards the doors without waiting for a reply and walked away from them as far as possible.

House Targaryen is lost, gone. She is the last one of the great house. That’s why they don’t care. She’s just a young girl with dragons to play with, Viserys may be right all along. She is dull, lacking of ambition for such greatness. Dany walked and walked, away from the danger and talks of war and politics, away from the judging eyes of men. All she wants is to ride Drogon with his brothers on either side of them, far far away to a place where no one can find her. Where there is the house with a red door and lemon trees around it to greet her every morning.

Her feet led her to the gardens of the Pyramid. She sat on a stone bench staring at leaves and wild flowers alike. She did not know how long she has been sitting there, maybe minutes, hours, or days. She didn’t dare count. Until she heard footsteps from behind. She wheeled around and found Jon Snow dapper in his armor and chainmail.

He walked towards her and looked at her apologetically. For the first time, she examined his black hair that was tied in a bun, she wished he would loose it for the pretty dark curls to fall around his shoulders.

“How long have I been lingering here?” she asked.

“You left the audience chamber an hour ago, Your Grace. We’ve been looking for you.”

She patted the seat beside her. He sat down, leaving a modest space between them.

“Did I react wildly?” she asked quietly, sounding like she was talking to the wind.

“I, well - I suppose you were shocked with the information.”

“Westeros sounds like an unruly place to rule.”

“I do not have any experiences in ruling, but I agree. Besides, you already are ruling here, Your Grace.”

Dany looked at him sharply, then abruptly changed the subject. “How do you find Meereen so far?”

“Quite alright. There is some miscommunication most of the time. I admit I find it hard to talk to others.” he replied, she saw that he was blushing.

“I can teach you how to speak Valyrian, if you like.” it was too late for her to realize the invitation. His blush deepened.

“You are too kind, Your Grace. I’m...I’m willing to learn.”

His mouth was twitching, forcing itself to curve to a smile or a frown she does not know.

“But you are a queen, you have responsibilities as I have to you.” he said sheepishly.

“I suppose you’ll learn it eventually, it would be difficult once you try to absorb it, though. But you can ask me sometimes.” she said, smiling.

“How old were you when you learned Valyrian?” he asked curiously.

“It’s my mother tongue. I grew up in the Free Cities speaking it, with the Common Tongue.”

Jon Snow smiled back, and stood up offering a hand. “Pardon me, my queen. But the others might be looking for us, they’d wonder why I have also disappeared.”

Dany looked at his outstretched hand for a moment, then took it. It was warm and calloused. She instantly pulled away when they made their way back inside. He seems to be letting her walk ahead, so she halts and waits for him to walk beside her. A couple of Dothraki turned in their direction, and halted at the sight of her. One of them spoke.

“Khaleesi, your Unsullied outside the gardens informed us that you were there. We decided not to disturb you.” he eyed Jon suspiciously. “We did not see The Foreigner with you a while ago.”

“He just came, blood of my blood. It’s alright, he can escort me to my chambers.”

The Dothraki nodded and proceeded to their own directions. Jon Snow looked confused. Dany felt a pang of guilt for not orienting him enough, she just threw him to the wolves. He swore to her, but in return she left him alone to wander her own world.

“You also speak Dothraki?” he said when they were finally alone.

“Yes, I lived with the Dothraki for some time. My first husband was the great Khal Drogo, Jon Snow. My brother sold me into a marriage so he could have an army that he couldn’t manage. He couldn’t even manage himself.”

“That was rueful, Your Grace. I must admit that I admire your knowledge in other languages. I’ve never met someone who can speak more than two tongues.”

She chuckled. “You should talk to Missandei.”

“You told me before that you used to work as a stableboy? How did you end up being a sellsword?” she broke the silence after a few moments.

“Well, that was when I was younger, Your Grace. I did not particularly worked, but my father had let me groom the horses in the stables, though I was given a modest room for myself. But...he never regarded me close enough to a son, though I understand that I am a bastard. He did require me to be taught by a maester and train with the master-at-arms when I was old enough to wield a sword, though. And I fought under the Stark banners during the War of the Five Kings, but the defeat came. A group of sellswords asked me to join them and strip myself of the Karstark armor, I’m a bastard anyway, but I didn’t tell anyone that my father was a noble lord. It doesn’t matter.”

They were now walking slowly, Dany did not realize that she shifted closer to him, eager to listen to his story. They rounded the corner to a flight of steps leading to the wing of her royal chambers.

“Oh, I thought you’ve been a sellsword for quite a long time. How did you adjust?”

“Err - the superior chiefs eventually noticed my skills in fighting. Long enough, I became the captain. I avoided signing up with people who want us to kill their enemies, Your Grace. We would appear to be an assassin organization. I started to accept offers that only needed us for security as service. Until we had permanently stayed with a rich merchant, then the tragedy in the sea happened.”

“You’re a captain?” Dany asked, surprised.

She stepped on the landing of the corridor and heard a gasp and a silent curse behind her. Jon Snow was regaining his balance on the last steps of stairs, and hurriedly climbed up and stood beside her.

“I almost tripped, Your Grace. That’s well - I thought I was taking it two at a time.”

“Were you counting the steps or not looking at it?” she replied, her lips curling to a smirk.

“I was looking after you.”

 _And you’re staring at me._ The sunlight outside lit his face clearly enough. His eyes were dark grey they almost looked black. Sweat was dripping slowly on his temple. He stepped closer to her, and she did not move. Something tingled between her legs.

“You did not tell me that you are a captain, though it’s a sellsword company. You should stop calling yourself a mere bastard, Jon Snow. You became a captain for a reason.”

“I’m afraid not anymore, Your Grace. My men are gone. But I am glad to be of your service, it’s an honor to serve a queen.” his breath was warm against her face.

“I’m naming you captain of my royal household guard. It’s not the same as Queensguard, but someone has to protect a queen’s home.” _where are these words coming from?_ “Pray excuse me, _captain._ Thank you for escorting me here.”

She gave him a quick smile before turning away and walked the rest of the corridor to her chambers. She went to read a book about the houses of Westeros, great and small. She studied the map of the known world as she had a million times. She tried to push the alarming information they had found out today at the back of her mind. The thought of Jon Snow being nervous around her made her forget Westeros and Cersei Lannister and the Iron Throne for a moment _._ Lunch was served, and she invited her handmaids to dine with her and she asked them how their day went. She braided Missandei’s hair, and then she felt tired and sleepy when mid afternoon came.

Dany fell to a nap that she didn’t plan to. She dreamed the faces of Khal Drogo, Daario Naharis, Hizdahr Zo Loraq, the handmaids who made love to her when she felt lonely. The dream kept on shifting to queer images, Ser Jorah Mormont fiercely kissing her, her bare breasts pressed hard against his armor. Then it shifted once again, she looked into dark grey eyes and her hands ran through thick black curls, calloused hands caressed her back, gentle but persistent. She wanted to stop there.

She straddled and rode him, and in front of her she saw lemon trees standing around them. The stars were smiling down at Dany and her lover. _All things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky._

Then her eyes opened and she found her hand resting between her legs. She rubbed the aching spot, her fingers glistening with her arousal. It took her a few more strokes on her nub until she was gasping, sighing, coming.

Dany had her handmaids draw her a bath. She supped on small bites, her appetite doesn’t demand food at the moment. She read the book she has been reading earlier that day, hoping to divert her attention. She read and read until her eyelids were falling. _It must be midnight._ When she walked back to her sleeping quarters, before she could remove her robe a knock came softly on her door.

“Your Grace?” _Daario._

“Enter.” she said.

At the late hour of the night, Daario Naharis was still clad in his flamboyant robes and armor, though void of his _arakh_ and dagger.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her nightclothes.

“I was just preparing for bed. To what do I owe this visit? I hope it’s quick, it’s quite late.”

“You’re sending me to ride for Yunkai in a few hours. I thought I might bid you a sweet goodbye.”

“At this late hour?” she arched her brows.

“Perhaps you can change your mind. Your Grace, my place is beside you.”

He took a few steps closer to her. She stepped back, pulling her robe tighter and crossing her arms.

“I have to make sure that the Bay of Dragons shall remain free under my rule. Eventually, I might station you in Yunkai and keep the queen’s peace at my stead.”

“Permanently?” he asked dubiously.

“What were you expecting me to do?”

“I’ve asked you before. Marry me, I’ll protect you, give everything you want, I will make love to you until the end of my days. Daenerys, I love you.”

“Do you?” her tone was full of doubts, unsure. As if she was judging his whole person with just two simple words.

Daario’s answer was strained silence. _She understands the love he was trying to give to her. It wasn’t enough. Who can love a dragon?_ His eyes fell, then looked at her again, silently pleading.

“You will lead men to Yunkai, and keep the queen’s peace, and answer to my invitation if I ever need your aid again, Daario. But if you refuse, and choose to leave my rule, I will not stop you. As long as you will still remain an ally to House Targaryen.”

She walked to him and cradled his face. “I know you love me, but it’s never going to work this way.” she stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Daario gently pulled away. He went on one knee, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I wish you to be happy and safe all the time, my queen. You will always be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Indeed, that was his only reason when he presented the heads of his comrades to her when he had sworn his fealty and the Second Sons under her rule. In the morning, as she stood on a balcony of the Pyramid and watched Daario Naharis ride to the rising sun away from her, she felt _nothing_. She had returned his affections but only for awhile, and it was empty of feelings and only full of lust that she had in her nature, as well as for Daario.

Tyrion stood next to her. “The lieutenant looked forlorn when he mounted his horse, I’ve observed. How did he take it?”

“Quite well.” she said flatly. “I just said goodbye to a man who said that he loved me, but I felt nothing.”

“Love is difficult, I agree.” Tyrion quipped.

“How can you call a monarch to possess absolute power, when she is not free to choose the person she could love?”

“You are the queen. You can bend the rules if you wish, just bend it wisely. But I believe we don’t particularly choose love, Your Grace. It rules over our will.”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re saying that when it was your advice for me to part from Daario.”

“You said so yourself, you didn’t feel anything for him.”

Dany did not reply, and watched the streaks of orange, yellow, and red paint the sky as the sun rose. She then turned to Tyrion. “Your name day is near, isn’t it?”

“Er, yes, Your Grace. What about it?”

“Let’s have a feast. And don’t be humble about it, you have a valid reason to drink more wine.”

Tyrion Lannister was blushing, then smiled. “Daenerys, sometimes I think the gods have given me a true sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I wonder if we will still see more of Daario?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Booze sucks sometimes, you know what I mean?

**Jon**

As household guard, Jon was always stationed in the throne room whenever the queen holds her court. He stood at the foot of the throne steps, and observed the civilians who came asking for the queen’s attention and help. Rich merchants, farmers, fishermen, and even strange visitors who had come to be acquainted with the dragon queen and her dragons, offering praises and fortune for the wars to come.

Jon wondered if there really are more wars to come, though. Ever since King Robert had died, the realm seemed to have never found its way back to justice and peace. Here and there banners were raised, soldiers marched, innocents were put to the swords and their villages set on fire. Jon thought of the impending calamity when the dragons finally came to Westeros, only to interfere to the numerous chaos residing in the damned country.

Everytime he dares to look up at Daenerys talking to her people, her face was solemn and considerate, assessing the matters carefully and every now and then would turn to Tyrion for some advice. _She is fit to rule, but Westeros is not fit for her to rule._

 _You’re a bastard, idiot._ A small voice said in his head. The queen may sound friendly to him sometimes, but he was no one compared to her, no right to tell her what she could possibly do.

He would oftenly fight the urge to look up at her. Standing as guard in a place that has no visible threat may be an idle work occasionally, but everyday in court Jon would find it agonizing to stop himself from looking at her. The dresses she wears make him more breathless. But if he looks close enough on her face, she was always dead serious and almost nonchalant. She scarcely expresses body language, only with her facial expressions. A single nod, the subtle raise of her eyebrows, a small smile on her lips, or merely an expression that he finds hard to read.

Once or twice she caught him looking at her, and he would turn away in embarrassment. He still finds it odd for the Unsullied to be frozen on their spots, their eyes unmoving. He hoped no one could see the blush creeping up on his neck to his cheeks. Guilty that he looked away from her that day, when the court finished and Daenerys climbed down the steps, he offered his hand to guide her down. She took it. Her hand was so soft and smooth, like it was only made for doing delicate things, no dirt could ever touch her.

“Captain.” she nodded to him.

“Your Grace.”

Ever since, Jon always offered his hand and she would take it. She seems to be the only person in this place to address him as _captain,_ something that makes his stomach churn pleasantly. He has also heard that the other soldiers and servants would call him _The Foreigner_ or simply _Snow._

Like today when he went to the main courtyard and Grey Worm greets him with “Snow.”, they walk side by side and found Daenerys arguing silently with Tyrion Lannister. Her tone was soft, but she really sounded firm with her words.

“If you and my guards are to see every corner of the city and under the morning sunlight, so will I.” she told Tyrion before mounting her silver mare.

The Hand merely bowed and proceeded to mount his own horse with an aid from a guard. His saddle was specialized to fit his short frame, a device that Tyrion himself had invented. The queen was to take a brief ride around the city today, saying that she wants to see for herself how Meereen was doing. Jon was one of the chosen guards to ride with her.

He and Tyrion rode behind Daenerys, a good three feet behind her. Jon leaned in and lowered his voice to speak with the Hand. “Is she angry today?” he asked cautiously.

“Just some slight annoyance with my suggestion. I told her that it would be most convenient if she was carried in a litter. But the queen has a soft spot for her silver, and she’d rather see the city with her own eyes.” Tyrion explained.

Everyone that they passed greeted Daenerys with warm smiles and curtsies. Most of them saying the word _mhysa_ with such reverence. She even reined up to receive a bouquet of flowers from a boy, and she responded her gratitude by kissing the top of the child’s head. At the square, children crowded her and she dismounted her horse to sit on a fountain. Daenerys Targaryen’s cold and regal persona that Jon had memorized in the throne room vanished, replaced with a woman who finds happiness from the people who are happy with her presence. _They love her._

Jon and Tyrion remained on their mounts, watching the queen mingle with the children. A voice almost startled Jon, breaking his attention away from the queen.

“Tell me, Jon Snow, what made you swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys?” asked Tyrion.

Jon studied Daenerys briefly, then looked at Tyrion. “I owe her my life, my lord. I didn’t even recognize who she was when I first saw her, and her identity gave out when I saw the Targaryen banner on the streets.”

“What does that imply? You didn’t ask her name?”

“I did. But she preferred a nickname.”

 _Dany._ It may sound as pleasant as the way she utters his first name. He can’t call her that, though. She is the queen. That was how he met her, but not the way he started to know her.

“The queen introduced humility, I see. No doubt, the crown is heavy to wear for someone who does not know how bow down meekly to his duty as a monarch.” said Tyrion.

Jon took this statement literally first, but at one glance at Daenerys he realized that he has never seen her wear a crown. Perhaps she has one, but she doesn’t want to wear it, or maybe none at all. Tyrion meant something that contradicts to the queen’s royal fashion. A crown, throne, jewelries, and a scepter are royal accessories, but Daenerys has none except for a few jewelries he had seen her wear, sometimes none at all. The only ornaments you can see in her head is her own hair styled in intricate braids that differ each day, she sits down on a simple ebony bench whenever she holds court.

On the ride back, Jon and Tyrion rode close to her.

“Most of these free people have no daily purpose to work for.” she said to Tyrion.

“Some source of income, Your Grace? I believe Slaver’s Bay -”

“Bay of Dragons.” she corrected.

“Yes. The Bay of Dragons is scarcely inhabited by rich and powerful families, ever since the slave masters were defeated when you defended Meereen.” Tyrion shifted in his saddle. “Not a great loss, of course. The people needed to be saved from the old injustice of slavery, and they broke a pact.” he added instantly, taking a quick glance at Daenerys.

“Traders and merchants hardly contribute to the tax system. I cannot raise the taxes of the farmers, some of them don’t even own the lands.” she replied.

“Perhaps you could order to build, Your Grace.” Jon said.

She looked at him and gave her one of her scrutinizing looks. “Build what?”

Jon regretted at once that he blurted out such thing. He is a mere soldier, a sellsword turned to her cause. He has no part of her small council, yet she paid attention to him. “You can start with the children, Your Grace. I’ve seen how they are fond of you. Maybe...it would help if you teach, I mean let them learn...like how maesters teach the highborn.” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Jon Snow makes a fair point, Your Grace. If you are ruling in a free land, why not give the youth a free privilege?” said Tyrion.

“Like how a maester teach the highborn. What difference were you telling, Jon Snow?” she asked Jon.

“Most common folk are illiterate in Westeros.” he said.

“Is that true?” she asked Tyrion.

Tyrion merely shrugged, and his shoulders fell. “I’m afraid to say so, but yes. Some may know how to read and write, but lack the knowledge.”

“No wonder that wheel has never broken.” her eyes twinkled for a moment, then shifted to look ahead of them.

The screech of a dragon came a few leagues away. One moment later a dragon came flying from the clouds. It was bigger than the first two Jon had seen before. This one was black, speckled with red scales. Daenerys broke into a smile.

“Schooling might be drastic to establish, my queen. Especially no one can manage the funds. A wise action, but it would be difficult. The Iron Bank in Braavos could be an initial aid.” said Tyrion.

“Help? You mean to be in debt? Oh, and why are we talking about this on horseback?” she said as though she was blaming Jon and Tyrion for bringing up the subject.

In a few days’ time came Tyrion Lannister’s nameday. The queen herself ordered to host a simple feast. A huge marquee was erected near the beach instead of the Pyramid’s own Great Hall. Tyrion had requested it for himself, to bring the celebration outside.

Inside the marquee, crimson and gold banners were draped on the walls, Tyrion’s house colors. They did not have the time to sew the actual Lannister banners however, but that was enough to make the Hand smile. Barrels upon barrels of wine were served, ale and mead stained the tables and carpeted floor as tankards were were brought together to a cheers. The Dothraki however, drank milk that Jon presumed was spoiled. He had to move away from them to keep himself from retching.

The food was glorious as well. A suckling pig, beef stew cooked with carrots and onions, lamb roasted in thyme and garlic, lamprey pies, cakes, and tarts. All of which were served to the dais first, before the servants brought it around the tables below them. It was a small feast, few of the soldiers from the queen’s army came as well, and few noble citizens. Jon estimated that there were at least a hundred guests, not counting the servants.

Jon stood in a corner with his cup of wine and watched the guests dance and he listened to the music that was led by drums and flutes. The culture of music here hardly sing songs in lyrics, but they were fond of drums that have aggressive beats, and now and then would be accompanied with a strum of a harp. He looked up. On the dais sat Tyrion himself on the center, with the queen at his right. Tonight, Daenerys donned a shimmering silk white dress, with a dragon brooch pinned on her left breast. She wore less braids, the tresses of her silver hair curtained around her shoulders.

She was talking to Missandei, and at the end of the great table Jon noticed that Grey Worm was looking at the queen’s friend. Jon found Grey Worm quiet but kind with words. The Unsullied may be excellent at showing a stony face, but the commander cannot hide the glimmer in his eyes tonight.

The guests at the center shifted to another dance, involving only two people in harmony. Jon took a swig of his wine, emptying the cup. He knew a few dances of the North, but he only performed them for a few times when he was younger. In time of War, songs became distress and hopeless, singing of blood and swords.

Somehow, Jon’s feet moved forward. The effects of the wine swaying him, he was walking towards the dais. He felt brave and graceful, as though the music was urging him on. The nearer he went, the closer he could see how radiant the queen looked tonight. _Gods, her name is Daenerys. Dany._ Tyrion must have told her and Missandei a jest, and that made both of them laugh. But Dany didn’t have the same smile she had a few days ago when Jon watched her with the children. He wished she smiled more often.

“My queen.” he said, smiling himself.

Dany and the people sitting on the dais with her looked up at the sound, they looked at him in mild surprise. Jon did not see them, he can only see Dany.

“May I ask you to have a dance with me?”

He wasn’t sure if his words were structured enough to be polite, but he was sure of his intentions. Dany looked at him for a few moments, Missandei was trying to hide a smirk, Tyrion poured more wine to his cup. Jon walked to the end of the dais, seemingly more determined. Dany rose from her seat and took his offered hand. He didn’t break eye contact with her as she stepped down the dais. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, mayhaps.

Arm in arm they walked towards the dance floor, guests moved aside to let them pass, bowing and greeting Dany.

“Do you know the dance here?” she asked beside him.

“No, I hope you would teach me.”

“You might want to look around the dancers, then.”

When they reached a spot, the musicians played a different tune, a fast rhythm with a choreography involving a lot of physical contacts. Their skin hardly left one another. Dany has a petite frame, movements as graceful as a swan, and a delicate hold on his arm and hand. Jon wanted to speak with her, but the music and laughter of the guests were too loud. The scents of ale, booze, roasted meat, and sweat mingled in the air. As the dance progressed into its climax, Jon could hardly breathe, but he was smiling down at the woman dancing with him.

Dany was not unsmiling, but her lips only gave hints. She was also enjoying this, he knew. When the music ended the guests and their fellow dancers broke into a raucous applause, she smiled at him and thanked him for the dance.

He had another cup of wine as the night stretched on, and the music grew louder. He even stumbled upon the table where Tyrion Lannister had wandered off, and played a little drinking game that he found amusing. Jon knew that he isn’t drunk, yet. He was sober enough to realize that some guests were already leaving through the flap leading to the city. Then he felt alone and tired, he was still struggling to adjust to this new world, but he liked it here better. Where there was peace and golden mornings, and someone worth fighting for.

Jon stood and almost stumbled onto a table of tarts, and made his way to the other side of the marquee. Not the one leading to the streets of the city, but the place where he would find serene darkness with the inviting light of the moon and stars above. Jon walked out of the marquee, his boots meeting sand. The guards had paid no attention to him, as the Unsullied always had.

He walked farther from the marquee, the scent of the sea filling his nostrils. Saltwater, sand, fish, and the wine that had stuck to himself. He was not the only one who craved the presence of the sea. A figure donned in a white dress stood facing the sea. Her silver hair was unmistakable, the only color of snow Jon will ever see from this side of the world.

“It’s cold out here.” he said, his voice was whole and bold.

She did not look up.

“I’m grateful for it.” she replied.

“You look beautiful tonight, Your Grace.”

She turned her head to look at him. He dared to take a few more steps closer to her, just a foot between them. With the moon and stars the only light out here, her amethyst eyes looked darker, but they were glimmering with amusement.

“I’m also grateful for that, captain. You look...handsome yourself. Though I wonder if you ever get bored of your clothes.”

Jon consciously looked down at himself. He wore his usual dark grey tunic. Since deciding to settle down here, he had visited various tailor shops and bought himself sets of tunics varying from black, grey, or dark brown. Dany had once half reprimanded him that he should have asked her to mention this matter to her own personal tailors. The next day, a servant came to his room bearing a parcel of new tunics.

“I admit I’m comfortable with this clothing, Your Grace.”

“Have you ever considered wearing a doublet? Especially with this occasion, it would have been more convenient to appear formal.” she countered.

“This is convenient enough, I think. Why would the clothing matter?”

“Because it’s courtesy to the standards of a particular occasion.”

Jon was forcing himself not to laugh. Dany noticed this, and she finally faced him, her arms crossed. Her eyes twinkled. She smelled like flowers, spring, and the sweetest wine. _This is how he met her for the first time. The scents of the sea and herself._

“Did the feast grow tedious on you? What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“I just felt tired. I wanted to find quiet for awhile.”

Dany was quiet for a few moments. “I find it pleasing to look out over the skyline of Meereen especially at night on the terrace of my chambers. It’s as pleasing as taking a stroll on the beach. Even for a night, standing peacefully with the sand tickling your feet, I feel lighter. With nothing to think about but the tranquility of it. Don’t you agree, captain?”

He looked at her. “Aye, Your Grace -”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Your Grace?” he said dubiously, confused with her sudden annoyance.

“That.” she said firmly, uncrossing her arms.

“You can call me by my name if we’re alone. I’m not holding court all the time.” she continued.

Jon blinked, and smiled. The wine is clouding him, but he was not _drunk_. “I would if you’d stop calling me captain.”

Once the words came tumbling out of his mouth, Jon knew that he was sober enough to be scared if Dany would order someone for his head to be thrown out into the sea. To his utter surprise, _Daenerys Targaryen was giggling._

He found his voice again. “Here you are accusing me with defying formalities when you’re commanding me to not address you formally.”

“It’s not a command!” she argued, halting her giggles to a small smile.

His breath hitched in his throat. She was so close. The marquee was far away from them, and no one was watching. With the wind whispering softly around them, the calm splashes of the sea’s waves, the faint music and laughter coming from the feast behind them, the sweet coldness of the night, the twinkle of the stars, the radiant glow of the moon, he did not know who leaned in first and it does not matter, when their lips found each other. Jon did not blame the wine for such boldness despite not having any encounters with a woman before, he was not drunk with it, but he was drunk with her and her only.

Dany’s lips were softer than it looked. His hands came to rest on the small of her back, he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. Jon trailed his hands to hold her by her waist, he did not know what he was doing, but she did. He found himself opening his mouth, and her tongue was there to meet him. She tasted like wine and fruits. He felt a hand tug at his hair, she was unlacing the tie of his hair. Her fingers threaded through his curls as he kissed her slowly. Nothing dared to cross his mind, nothing mattered but her mouth and tongue and hands.

It was a long kiss that seemed to have lasted for hours. When they parted, Jon felt like it was too quick, he wanted more.

“Dany.” he managed to croak out, his voice hoarse.

He should feel ashamed and shocked, he kissed the queen. But she wasn’t the queen right now, he can only see Dany. She should slap him for that kiss, she should look scandalized. Instead, her cheeks were flushed and she was calm and her arms were still wrapped around his neck.

“Goodnight, Jon Snow.” she said.

As quickly as their lips met, Dany detached herself from him and walked back to the marquee. Her skirts flowing behind her like water. He stood there watching her walk away, putting a thousand leagues between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book trivia: Dany owns a crown that was given to her as a gift by the Tourmaline Brotherhood in Qarth. Described as: " _wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon. The coils are yellow gold, the wings silver, the heads carved from jade, ivory, and onyx._ "


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! Well then, let's proceed...  
>  **important character discussion at end notes.**

**Daenerys**

Missandei’s deft fingers eased their way onto Dany’s silver locks, weaving them here and there. Dany sat straight on the table of the council chamber, her mind almost dazed and sleepy from her friend’s comforting talent with braids. It reminded her of how she threaded her fingers through Jon Snow’s pretty curls last night. Dany was thankful that Missandei was behind her and could not see her, or else it would be mysterious to see Dany suddenly blush.

Jon’s kiss was slow and patient. She had been expecting it, since he went to ask her hand for a dance. She was adept at reading men. She has caught him looking at her, and she as well took chances of stealing glances from him during the feast, he looked like he was enjoying the company of wine. She hoped she was part of that good company too, but why would she still doubt? Dany had already made clear to him that she wanted to break that wall between them as a queen and a soldier, one that he had teasingly responded to.

Dany had finally caught that other side of him, his typical brooding facade vanished in a single night. Did it? She hasn’t seen him today yet. She could cancel court today or assign him anywhere in the Pyramid. That was foolish. She wanted to see him, but she also doesn’t want to. Dany was confounded and amused with that kiss. She was very pleased with it. And overwhelmed, that she walked away…

Like her own friends and servants. Dany had noticed Grey Worm’s stolen glances at Missandei.

“How are things going between you and Grey Worm?” Dany asked.

Missandei’s fingers stopped for a moment. “Your Grace?”

“You know what I mean. I believe we had this conversation before.”

Missandei tucked one last strand of hair and tied it with the fifth tiny silver bell. _The Dothraki way._ The bells rang softly when Dany turned to look at her friend who sat down beside her.

“Did he ask you to dance last night?” Dany asked.

Missandei looked outside of the terrace, her lips curled in a small smile. “No...the Unsullied dance with spears and shields. Grey Worm is shy, Your Grace.”

“A man may be the strongest and loudest on the battlefield, but he becomes very shy and blushes like a maiden on her wedding night when he is around the woman he likes.” said Dany. She took a stray strand of her hair and twirled it around her fingers.

“I see that he is also interested with me, as I am to him. But he is a man of few words.”

“If words are not enough, let other things do their part.” Dany took her hand, looking at her friend intently on the eyes. “Pay attention to his eyes all the time. An important advice though, don’t make the first move. Let him be.”

“And if he doesn’t?” there was a slight tremor of anxiety in her voice.

“Grey Worm may be a skilled warrior and the most fearless of my soldiers. But if it comes to that, he’s an idiot.”

The two women laugh like little girls but their brief moment of giggles was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Tyrion Lannister and Lord Varys halted when they saw Dany, a slight surprise on their faces that she had arrived first. Dany stood up and nodded at them. Her two advisors bowed in return.

“My lords, please take your seats.”

Tyrion placed a thick leather bound book in front of him, and Varys quietly slid onto his seat. Once all of them were seated, a servant came with a tray of cups and a flagon of wine to serve the attendants of the meeting. Dany turned her attention to Varys.

“Lord Varys, I trust your trip to Pentos was fulfilling?”

“It was, Your Grace. Less fulfilling than I have expected, as Lord Tyrion here had already enlightened me that you have found out yourselves the new state of Westeros. A significant information I thought I would bring to you myself.”

“A revelation that almost sliced open my throat.” she said coolly.

“A near misfortune, Your Grace. My apologies, what was the name of the man who rescued you? I heard that he was given an honorable place at your cause.”

“Jon Snow. The captain of the royal household guard.” her voice went slightly higher at the mention of his last name. She wondered what was he doing right now.

“The man seems to be grateful with this newfound reward by Her Grace. I hope he deserves it.” Tyrion chimed in, before sipping from his own cup.

The thought of her advisors discussing Jon was making her uncomfortable. She gave Tyrion a sharp look. “What other information do you have, Lord Varys?”

The eunuch glanced briefly at her Hand then back at her. “A few issues had risen amidst Cersei Lannister’s ascend to the throne. Prince Doran is dead, murdered by Ellaria Sand. In the North, Roose Bolton and his wife and newborn son had mysteriously died, my little birds tell me. His legitimized bastard now holds Winterfell. From the South, Lady Olenna has been caught and executed. House Tyrell is now extinct.” Varys finished.

Dany clasped her hands under the table, taking it all in. “It’s the noble houses against each other, are they not? Making allies this way would be crude if they have rough ties with one another.” she heaved a sigh, the news making her tired.

Her eyes traveled to Tyrion’s book. Golden scales snaked around the leather up to the center of the front cover, ending with dragon heads. The title read _The Ancient and Great Valyria._ Dany could almost bring herself to pray to her ancestors. Her family was the last of the noble Valyrian families. Aegon the Dragon had unified the Seven Kingdoms under his rule, held by generations and generations of Targaryens. The Iron Throne was even fought over by generations of her kin. Until the usurper Robert became their downfall. Until Dany was the only surviving member of the great house, the last person in the world even to possess Valyrian features.

“We still do not have the sufficient number of armada to conquer Westeros, my queen. Our host might overwhelm Cersei, yes. But how do we get there?” Tyrion said, snapping her out of her reverie.

Varys cleared his throat. “Speaking of ships. Your Grace, Krono paz Toraq and his brothers had declared war against you. They are sailing back to Meereen with five hundred ships and five thousand men. This I hear from my birds in Tolos.”

Dany’s head snapped in attention. She didn’t know if she should laugh or flare in anger. “The three brothers who went to seek my hand in marriage two moons ago? I believe I have thanked them warmly enough and dismissed them politely enough.”

“They had not taken your dismissal very well, it seemed.”

“Petty little cocks.” Tyrion quipped. Dany glared at him. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

“How long will they sail until they arrive in Meereen?” asked Dany.

“They haven’t left Tolos yet, Your Grace. However the information was clear and true, they are planning some sort of surprise assault.”

“We do not have enough war galleys to face five hundred of them.” Tyrion said, lazily flipping his book open. The first page was inked with the map of Valyria.

“I have dragons.” said Dany.

Missandei turned to Varys. “Is there any mention of the reason of the assault, my lord?”

Varys shook his head. “No definite reason that my birds had heard. We might be safe to assume that they got offended by Her Grace’s refusal. Indeed a petty proposal, if you ask me.”

“Your Grace.” Missandei shifted in her seat to face Dany. “Your dragons are the most useful instruments in the ways of warfare. But before we could lead to that defense, we can send an emissary to them to ask for a private dialogue first. Hence, both parties can come into fair terms.” she said diplomatically.

“That would be wise, Your Grace.” said Tyrion.

“The last time we made a pact with an opposite party it was with the slave masters and they broke that pact.” Dany scoffed. “The intentions of these brothers are vague save for their sudden raise of violence because of their silly temper.”

Her voice raised to an authoritative tone. The room was silent for a few moments, until she continued. “Very well. A single galley with a peace sail shall await their arrival, I pray they won’t do anything stupid. Lord Varys.”

“Your Grace?”

“Make sure your birds’ ears are sharp and quick to fly the necessary information of their host’s arrival. We might want to take good care of our time. Grey Worm will join the council tomorrow.”

They all proceeded to the throne room to hold court in mid afternoon. Dany instinctively looked for Jon, and of course he was there. He was sitting on the gallery beside the windows when they came, and he stood abruptly in attention when he saw Dany entering the room, bowing his head. He did not look at her after that, avoiding her gaze. Dany kept on glancing in his direction during the whole time in court, his back turned to her. _How dare he avoid me like this after kissing me?_

This is the only time Dany found the court too distracting and unwelcoming. Tyrion did most of the talking today, conversing with the civilians kindly and wisely. She should have sent Jon to be on duty somewhere else in the Pyramid, or around the city. She should have not danced with him. Worse, she should not have kissed him back! Dany felt embarrassed now that he was being cold as ice with her. If that’s what he wants, why, she has a talent for that.

Dany pushed Jon at the back of her mind as the rest of the afternoon stretched on. Once the matters of the court was over, Dany climbed down the steps of the throne with her head held high, looking ahead of her to the exit of the room. Jon’s hand was there to guide her down as always, and she took it without looking at him.

Her advisors have left ahead of her. She was already at the threshold when he finally spoke up.

“Your Grace?”

She turned to look at him. There were only two of them in the room except for two Unsullied guards. She raised her eyebrows in response. “May I have a private word with you?”

No, not here. They are not completely alone. “Come to the council chambers tonight.” she said impassively then walked out of the room without waiting for any kind of response from him.

After supper, Dany lingered in her bath for an hour or two. She thought about the things Jon would say. It was obviously about their encounter the night before. She kissed him back, not forcefully, not because he was kissing her, not because her mouth and tongue found a tandem and moved in instinct. She kissed him back because she wanted to, it was the right thing to do.

At the same time, it was wrong and even worse. Tyrion explained to her that cutting ties with Daario was an open opportunity for marriage alliances in Westeros. Dany found that political strategy a tremendous importance, Drogo and Hizdahr proved that. Her brother Viserys had seen that as a powerful gain for himself, marrying Hizdahr was a benefit for the people of Meereen, even if it also included the reopening of the fighting pits which she found utterly appalling. There were reasons for arranged marriages, and in Dany’s case, they all spiraled into nothing but blood and death. As a queen, she must make sacrifices, but...but…

They do not matter now. Dany dried herself with a towel and donned a white silk robe. She found it pleasing sometimes when she tend to herself without her handmaids. The bells and pins remained at her hair, half of her tresses soaked wet from her bath.

She slipped her feet into her sandals and made her way to the council chambers. Meeting Jon Snow at this time of the night in her own quarters would be _odd._ Besides, Dany enjoyed it when she walked the corridors of the Pyramid at night that were half lit by moonlight and the other half with the torches on the scones on the wall. A trail of icy blue and warm fire that she walked leisurely, the soles of her sandals padded softly on the marble floors.

Essos might be a warm continent, but tonight it was colder than usual. Dany regretted at once that she could have brought a fur pelt with her instead of hugging herself with her arms, the thin robe was not helpful.

But the council chambers were warmer, though. She lit two torches on either side of the terrace doors inside, giving the room a faint warm glow. She sat on her usual council seat, and saw that Tyrion had left his book that he brought with him earlier. Curiously, Dany opened the book and read by the torchlight.

 _What if the Doom never came?_ She thought sadly. The Valyrian race had all the greatness and magnificence, but no mortal still withstand natural calamities. No matter how great and magnificent they were. Valyrian steel is the strongest and deadliest steel this world has ever known, the only surviving gifts her ancestors have left. _No, I have my dragons._ While she lives, House Targaryen lives on...until well, she doesn’t want to think about it.

A series of soft knocks on the door made her close the book. _There are other things I’m thinking about, this book is a distraction._

She heard the door close, and in the corner appeared Jon Snow, clad in a simple tunic, breeches, and boots. Dany took note of the soot and dirt at his boots. She stood up to regard him, and he nodded. She suddenly found the greetings awkward.

“Have you been waiting for a long time? Forgive me if I was delayed. I was, er - I was trying to be discreet.” he seemed like he choked out the last word.

She shook her head. “I was just reading.”

Jon climbed the steps to the council table, and stood a good few feet away from her. He folded his hands in front of him. “I will be quick with this, Dany.” her heart jumped at the mention of her name.

“I apologize for my intrepid behavior last night at the feast. I was not in the right place nor the right person to kiss you. You are my queen, _the queen._ Please forgive me, Your Grace -”

“ _Your Grace?_ You just called me by my name earlier.”

He sighed. She just ruined his rehearsed apology. “I will apologize for a thousand times if I have to, if that would appease you. I harassed you, Dany.”

“Would you call it harassment when I kissed you back?” she walked several steps towards him until he was at arm’s length.

He shook his head slowly. “No, no. But still it wasn’t right of me to -”

“Stop being so formal with me, Jon!” she said impatiently. He looked taken aback.

“If you say so, then.” he said, running a hand on the top of his hair that was still tied behind his head. “After you left it made things worse. I just remembered. I have not confirmed so myself, that you have something for Daario Naharis.”

Dany laughed that almost sounded like an insulting snigger. “I’m right, am I?” Jon said, his face fell.

“Partially.” she said. “But that was the past, I never felt anything for Daario in between our affairs together.” she admitted impassively.

“He had only gone for a short time after you sent him from Meereen, and now I took advantage of his absence. I can tell you that he doesn’t like me -”

“Stop talking about Daario, you’re not here to talk about him.” she snapped, irritated by the way this conversation was going to. “We’re talking about you and me.”

He stepped closer to her. “Aye, you and me. I can’t stop thinking about you and me.”

Jon brought one hand to cup her face. She gasped at the lightest maneuver, but she didn’t pull away.

“I’m a bastard who recognizes honor, Dany. I know my place as well as yours. You are the queen, and I don’t want to tamper your place of nobility. I am not worthy of your affections.”

She was wounded by that. Dany was about to push him away when he brought his other hand to her face, cradling her gently. “When I think about it, it hurts, Dany. When I watch you talk with your people like a commoner I find myself lost because of you but me, I’m a Snow. The noble families and even the common folk will judge us.”

“You’re bothered about your bastard status, is that it? Westeros is bothered of a status that seem to overflow their population.” she said wryly. “I plan to establish and rule a free country with free people, Jon. And this is what you’re thinking? That you being a bastard is hindering your life choices, when you’re here right now in Meereen, a place I have freed. Do the lords and ladies find time to gossip about controversial matches? Well, I am telling you, we’re not in Westeros and it’s not -”

It was her turn to be cut off this time. She welcomed his mouth on hers and she returned the same enthusiasm in their second kiss. Her previous words were being translated into a kiss full of heat and promises. What was she saying a few seconds ago? In another way, it was meant to be like this. She wanted him to kiss her for hours. Like the first time, Dany reached behind his head to untie his hair. She flexed her fingers through his curls and massaged his scalped as he greedily swiped his tongue against her own.

They didn’t pull away from each other as their feet moved, walking towards the terrace. Dany pushed his head, as though trying to pull him even closer when his body was already warm and eager against hers. She reluctantly stopped playing with his hair to untie the laces of his tunic. A few laces undone, Jon abruptly broke the kiss, and her hands stop.

“Is everything alright?” she asked quietly.

“Aye, more than anything, Dany. I just…” he brushed a thumb across her cheek. “I just want to look at you.”

She planted a chaste kiss on his lips before resting her forehead against his. “You have plenty of time for that.”

“Then let me take my time.”

Dany realized that they have walked outside the terrace. The faint wind was cold, but Jon was warm against her. He reached up and started pulling away the tiny bells and pins that held her braids together. One by one they fell with a light clang against the stone floor, and he ran his fingers through her hair. She let him kiss her slowly this time. As their tongues intertwined with each other, Dany undid the rest of his tunic’s laces and they pulled away so she could remove it.

He had scars, maybe five of them on his torso, she counted. She reached out to touch them, prodding them gently with her fingers as though they were still fresh wounds. Jon became stiff when she touched him, his blush evident from the torchlight of the terrace.

She kissed him eagerly to tell him how much she wanted him, needed him. He tugged at the belt of her robe, and she shrugged the offensive fabric from her shoulders and pressed her bosom against the hard planes of his chest. She moaned, her nipples hardening at the newfound contact. Pulling away briefly, Dany led him to the outdoor chaise of the terrace and sat down on the edge of it. She unlaced his breeches, never breaking eye contact with him. He was staring hungrily at her, mouth slightly open in anticipation. He helped her pull down his breeches and boots.

His cock stood in attention, hard and throbbing for her. She stroked him a few times, and he grunted. Jon closed his eyes for a moment, opened them and knelt down before her. He took her again in his mouth languidly, and down he went. He placed wet kisses on her neck, licked and sucked both of her breasts.

Jon placed another kiss on her lips, until he bent down and placed more on both of her thighs. She pushed his head impatiently, guiding her to the spot where she wants him to be. He was stubborn though, he swallowed her frustrated sigh with another kiss and they were both moving farther to be comfortable on the chaise. She lied down on her back as she watched his hand travel down to her delicious spot.

He teased her folds, and put two fingers inside her and pressed on her pearl with his thumb. Dany cried out his name, her moans waking the dead of the night. He kissed her as he rubbed and slid his fingers faster. In a compelling momentum, Dany bit his lower lip when she came in his hand. He groaned against her mouth. She watched as he sucked his fingers, her nectar mingling with the blood in his lips that gave a new wave of heat pooling between her legs.

She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, grinding herself teasingly against the head of his cock. Wasting no more, Dany sunk down on him, his hard cock claiming her as she is claiming him. Dany rode him harder than she has ever rode anything. His hands cupped her breasts, and she held tight to his arms to keep herself in balance. Her nails dug into his skin and scratched them as they both chased their heights. He doesn’t seem to mind the pain.

“Gods, Dany. You are so beautiful, so beautiful. Have I ever told you that?” he panted.

“Don’t. Don’t talk, make your mouth useful.”

He obeyed.

He sat up and kissed her with such ferocity Dany knew her lips would be swelling awfully after this. The obscene slap of their flesh and their feral grunts and moans will wake the rest of the residents of the Pyramid, perhaps the whole city. Let them hear, then. She held him tighter, and his arms around her did the same, both of them afraid of letting go. _Let it be like this forever_. Dany threw her head back as her walls clenched around his cock, and he came soon after her. His seed came rushing to her womb, and she relished it, she looked up at the night sky and stars above them as she met his hips for a few more slow thrusts to ease themselves. Dany looked down at him and she saw everything she needed to see.

His eyes, his eyes, _his lovely grey eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic, Dany is Jon's first. (And hopefully his last?)  
> So why is he a virgin?  
> Both in the books and show, Jon was a virgin until he met Ygritte. He had sex with her because of duty. Forgive me but I don't remember how Qhorin Halfhand reminded him this in the show, but in the books, he told Jon to _ride with them, live with them etc._ , he meant for Jon to do these things with the wildlings before he killed the legendary ranger. This phrase was repeated over and over again on Jon's chapters. Why? So he could convince the wildlings that he was already part of them and he is no longer a man of the Night's Watch. Sleeping with Ygritte was one of those factors to persuade them. It was duty, but Jon is a man after all, and he fell in love with her. Just like with Dany, they had sex, made love, because they fell in love with each other.
> 
> Let us go back to the first chapter of this fic, Jon never understood the thought of laying with a woman that you have no feelings for, if your only purpose was lust. He disagreed with it. Just like canon Jon. Jon Snow will never have sex with a woman unless he was obliged to do so under his duty, if he has a sense of purpose to do it. Or furthermore, he will only bed the woman he loves. There's also an issue that is rampant in fanfiction. When a woman is a virgin and her male partner isn't, it's totally okay. But make it opposite and it's questionable. Why? Can't we overlook the double standards? I'm trying to write these amazing characters aligned to their actual canon selves as much as I can, because when I write them, they overtake me. This situation is thrown to them and I think, what will they do? What will they say?
> 
> I also wanted to discuss something important from the canon universe though, something I almost added to this story but I thought I might give you guys some time to enjoy the smut. So I might mention that next chapter. (Though it has nothing to do with the story I just want to share my opinion and hear your thoughts.) See ya around!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up exactly from the previous one. Enjoy! :)

**Jon**

Jon’s eyes slowly opened, firelight waking his senses. He found himself staring back at the open night sky. Did he even fall asleep? Was that merely a brief dream?

Jon Snow heard tales of men, from his fellow soldiers and sellswords. From the brothels and markets he had ridden past, friendly conversations of men that had turned to lewd jests that made him uneasy. He found it embarrassing sometimes, a few of his closest friends knew that Jon was not interested in randomly laying with women. He would soon then blush, and walk away from the world and lay down on his bed and fall asleep.

But ignoring those talks by solving it with sleep did not mean that Jon doesn’t have an idea about it. He must have been bad. What must she think of him?

Her fingertips drew lazy circles on his chest that tickled him. Jon looked down and found a thick mane of silver hair blocking most of his view. This view is pretty. They were still lying on the outdoor chaise of the council chamber’s terrace. Their legs were intertwined, her hot breath drew steadily against his skin. His left hand was holding her forearm, and the other resting on her waist. The robe she wore was draped across their bodies, hardly covering anything but their torsos. He ran one hand through her hair that was even softer than cotton. Dany’s head jerked up at his movement, looking at him with her bright violet eyes.

“How long have we been here?” he rasped.

“Maybe half an hour. I think you dozed off.” she whispered.

Dany shifted above him, her knee grazing his manhood. His body instantly reacted to the contact, and he felt himself grow hard. If Dany felt this, she knew her effects on him very well. She pushed herself closer to him and captured his lips for a slow kiss. He reciprocated it with hunger and impatience. He held her by the nape of her neck and kissed her so hard as if his life depended on it. By the old gods and the new, she had already took his life and soul and heart and everything.

Their bodies were pressed so close that Jon felt too warm, sweat was starting to pool between them. He traveled one hand to grab her arse, and she moaned against his mouth. He was aching, flushed with hot lust. He was aching for her. In one swift move, Jon pushed her to her back with his body, the robe slipping from them to fall helplessly on the floor. Her legs opened to let him settle between her, and he moved his hips against her. Her already slick folds met his cock.

_ Fuck.  _ He thought. It was no surprise to him that Dany liked to be the facilitator of authority, proving that when she straddled him. Now though, he got too excited at the sight of her in his arms when he woke up from his nap, aware of their bodies still sensitive from that glorious encounter. He got too excited, that he wanted to please her with his own control this time. For fuck’s sake, he was being ridiculous in so many ways.  _ He knows where to fucking put it _ .

He didn’t want to end up being mortified, she was just as aroused as he was beneath him. Jon sat up to see it for himself and...and Daenerys Targaryen laying naked and flushed and aroused before him was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The sight of her made him even harder. She mewled impatiently, and she reached out her hand to caress his thigh. Carefully, Jon watched as he slid himself into her. It was driving him mad.

“Kiss me.” she demanded.

He bent down and planted his mouth on hers as he started to pound his hips. Her cunt was so warm and welcoming, enveloping him in an embrace that made him feral. Jon wrapped his arms around her torso, holding her tightly as he gave her the most powerful thrusts he could muster. She soon came around him, and she wrapped her arms possessively around his neck as he reached his own release. Their foreheads touched as he listened to their ragged breathing, waiting to calm themselves.

“We should get dressed and leave. This is no place for us to sleep.” she declared.

Dany had only to drape and tie her robe around her. She picked up her hair pins and went back inside the chamber silently, leaving him to dress. When he finished, she was standing there waiting for him, hugging herself. He saw that she took out the torchlights, making the room eerily dim.

“You leave first, Jon. If someone would walk in they won’t question to find me here.” she whispered, as if she were afraid to get caught in her own home.

“Aye, I know.”

He walked up to her and stood still when she reached out to him to tie the rest of his tunic’s laces. He could hardly see the rest of her face in the darkness, but he knew her outlines. Jon cradled her face and kissed her again, long enough that when they pulled away, they were breathing heavily again.

“I’ll see you, then.” he said, with full of hope.

“Yes.”

Jon looked around the corridors when he opened the door, and found it empty. He walked briskly but calmly back to his private chambers a few floors below. Now that he was a captain, he had a room to himself. It was small, but he was pleased with it.  _ He felt like he was going the wrong way. _ He must stay with her. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms and watch the dawn break with her.

Perhaps that would be the last time he will ever spend with her, in that way at least. The last time he will be allowed to be so endearingly close to her. Once inside his own room and on his own bed, Jon lied there wide awake, staring at the darkness around him. His arm reached to the other side of the bed, imagining Dany’s figure to stir beside him. She was not there, however. As it had to be.

The euphoria of the previous hours with her receded as quickly as their desires heightened. Dany knows this too, and they’re both making a fool of themselves. Or maybe it was just him, hopelessly dreaming of the woman that he cannot spend the rest of his life with. But her kisses still lingered on his lips, her heated touch tingled his scars, his nose craved for her scent of flowers and spring.

Jon tossed and turned on his bed. He thought of an urge to leave his chamber to go look for her, to see her again. But eyes will be watching.  _ Do the Unsullied talk?  _ He noticed that they were the only guards inside the Pyramid. There are also servants, handmaids, cooks, and so on and so forth that make gossiping as their past time. No, he would not sneak out. Jon closed his eyes, and he fell asleep, dreaming of her.

The sunlight outside his window was too bright when he woke, he had overslept. Jon went about with his usual morning routine before starting the day. Most guards would place their fists on their chests in salute when they see him, regarding him as  _ the  _ captain, and he would return it cordially.

After breaking his fast, he turned to one of the lower and widest corridors in the Pyramid, and stopped when he saw Dany looking out over the windows. Today, Dany donned a strapless purple gown that exposed her back. She must have sensed his presence, as she turned to look at his direction when he came into view. A small smile curled in her lips, and he took that as an invitation to walk closer. He did, and stopped with a modest space between them, a length to be considered as conversational.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked without looking at him, her eyes trained outside. From this lower floor, the buildings and people going on about their day were clearly visible.

“Quite late last night, though. I overslept.” she was still not looking at him. His hands suddenly went cold, his muscles tightening, his heart thumping. He folded his hands behind him to hide his fidgeting. “I hope you slept well, Your Grace.”

She smiled. “I did.”

She finally faced him, the smile gone in a second and her face bright but unreadable as usual. Her eyes were gleaming with scrutiny, though. “I can never understand why you don’t want to get rid of your gambeson.” 

He laughed lightly, hoping it wouldn’t annoy her. “I like my gambesons, and the tunics you gave me before as well.”

“You’re not in the North, Jon. Look at you, you’re sweating awfully.” she scolded.

“I take a bath three times a day. I find the contrast of the hot weather and cold water quite enjoyable.”

She raised her brows. “I suggest you visit a stream here in the city. Men and women go there to clean themselves, but perhaps if you venture farther enough you’ll find yourself some privacy.”

“Have you ever tried taking a bath there?”

She hummed. “Not yet. You can try yourself and tell me how refreshing it is.” she said casually. He did not miss the hint in her smile, he wanted to kiss her right now, but knew that it was not advisable.

He nodded at the windows. “Is this how you usually spend your mornings?”

“Yes, most of the time. I like to watch my people go on about their common day with common things. When I’m not satisfied, I ride out there myself. Didn’t you accompany me the last time?”

“Aye. From what I saw, the people love their queen. They greeted you with some title. Is it Valyrian for  _ Your Grace? _ ”

“Mhysa?”

“Yes, that one.”

She shook her head. “It’s in the Old Ghiscari tongue. It means mother.”

A calm silence fell between them. She looked out again at the city, but he remained his eyes planted on her. “I care for my people the way I do with my dragons.” she said after a while. “When I liberated them, it meant something. My children, I was given the opportunity to protect and love them, the way a mother would. The way a leader would.”

“I think so. But holding your own child in your arms would be a different feeling, isn’t it?” he said cheerily. 

After saying that, Jon knew he said the wrong words. Her face fell, and her eyes were glassy.

“I can’t.” her firm voice was gone, replaced with anguish that seemed to be hiding within her for ages.

“What do you mean?”

Dany took a few steps closer to him. “The witch who killed my husband cursed me. I can never bore children of my own blood, Jon. I thought I could save Drogo that way, but in the end I lost everything.”

“I’m sorry, Dany.”

“Don’t.” she shook her head. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. Don’t you dare. Don’t feel sorry for being a bastard because it’s not your fault, Jon. It wasn’t your choice, it will not define who you are.” she said vehemently.

Before thinking, Jon reached out to take her hand, and she entwined her fingers with his. They were alone, but not out from the confines of a room. He gave her a squeeze, to which she returned, and dropped his hand. She faced the windows again, her posture straight and formal.

“The morning is running late, captain. Please summon my advisors and Grey Worm to the council chambers.”

Jon pursed his lips. Dany looked at him for several moments, and her eyes twinkled in amusement. Memories of the previous night came flashing in his mind in a wild blur. “Don’t start with me, Jon Snow.”

He smiled and bowed his head. “As you command, my queen.”

Jon found Tyrion Lannister first in his solar. He announced his presence by knocking on the door, and was permitted to open the door himself when the Hand told him so. Tyrion’s face was contorted in a grimace, hastily shoving books and ledgers on his table. He did not spend a mere second to lift his head to acknowledge Jon, as he looked too busy and too worried.

“The queen demands your presence at the council chambers, my lord.”

“Yes yes yes. I’ll be there shortly.” he looked up. “Ah, captain. Will you please lend me a hand here? And a pair of your eyes? I’m looking for a book.”

Jon walked in to the room. “What book, my lord?” he squinted at the towers of books and picked one.

“ _ The Ancient and Great Valyria,  _ that’s the title. Black leather and gold scrollwork.” Tyrion huffed with frustration.

Jon placed back the book he was holding. He saw that book resting on the council chamber’s table last night. He dared not to mention that, of course.  _ He was not in the council chamber. _ He started for the door again.

“Forgive me my lord, but the queen seems to be wary of the time. I would gladly help you find that book, however.”

Tyrion sighed. “Fine then, come on. Help me find Lord Varys instead, but I assume he’ll be there already. Nevermind the eunuch.”

“Who?” Jon asked.

They walked side by side once they were out of the solar. “I see you haven’t met the Spider yet. The queen’s master of whisperers, he served in the same position in King’s Landing before he helped me escape the Westerosi justice.” he stated sardonically.

“You escaped your own execution by exile, then travelled all the way here to meet the queen?”

Tyrion smirked. “I thought I would meet her in a more presentable way. But no, I met her when I was in chains, in a fighting pit. I was kidnapped by her loyal advisor, Ser Jorah Mormont. He was hoping that he could win back the queen’s favor by presenting me as a gift.”

“Jorah Mormont of Bear Island? Kidnap you?” Jon asked, half intrigued and half confounded.

“It’s a long bloody tale, Captain Snow. Let me make it short for you. Jorah Mormont is the queen’s most loyal advisor and friend, he was there since she was wed to Khal Drogo, he had witnessed her hatch her dragons. He had seen her grow from an innocent child to an endearing queen. Initially, Ser Jorah worked for Varys as a spy for the Targaryens, and the queen soon found out, sending him in exile. Then he met me and here I am, serving the queen as her Hand. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Why is he not here?”

“On our little trip to Meereen, we had to fight a couple of Stone Men when we passed Valyria. Unfortunately, Ser Jorah was touched by one.”

Jon quickly deduced it. He knew how bad greyscale could get, having seen one man die from it when his whole arm was infected that it looked like a grotesque substitute for a flesh. “That’s a gruesome way to die.”

“Oh no, not like that. Maybe not yet, I hope not.” Tyrion said anxiously. “I believe the queen had commanded him to find a cure, that’s why he is not here with us.”

They took a flight of stairs and rounded a corner. Jon saw Grey Worm and a man in robes he doesn’t know standing outside the council chambers. He had forgotten that he had to summon Grey Worm, too. But Dany’s council seems to know their queen’s instructions very well.

“He was pardoned by Her Grace?” Jon urged.

“An inquisitive lad, aren’t you? That’s another tale for another time, captain. Everything is too complicated, now that you are to meet the Spider.”

When they stopped in front of the doors, the man in robes who smelled strongly of rosewater reached out a hand and smiled at Jon cordially. His hand was heavily powdered Jon thought of washing himself once he leaves. This might be Lord Varys.

“Captain Snow, so glad to finally meet you.” he said. Jon shook his hand unsurely, giving the man a strange look. How can he know Jon when they have just met? He merely nodded.

“Lord Varys, as you have already heard, this is Jon Snow, captain of the royal household guard. Captain, this is Lord Varys, the master of whisperers.” Tyrion confirmed politely.

Jon released Varys’ hand swiftly, brushing his now powdered fingers together. “If you would excuse me my lords. Have a good day.”

He left abruptly in case one of them would incite a conversation. Jon was so sure that he did not like Varys. From the name he bears, a spider, a whisperer. He cannot tell exactly why, but he doesn’t trust the Spider.

He did not see Dany for the rest of the day. Until later that night when he had stripped off his tunic to get ready for bed (and always slept on top of the covers because he found the climate too hot for his body’s liking), a soft knock on his door startled him. Dany greeted him with a heated kiss once the door closed behind her. She had donned a cloak, and in a matter of frantic hands between kisses and giggles their clothes were thrown on the floor. They stumbled upon his bed, giving their attention to each other as quietly as they can. Stifling their obscene sounds with kisses.

When they were done, Dany laid her head on his chest, caressing him, paying close attention to his scars.

“You’re very tender.” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t want a bad first impression since I’m new to this. You deserve some care, Dany.”

Dany suddenly lifted her head to gaze at him accusingly. He realized what he had just said. He wished he could take out the light from the taper on his bedside table to hide his flushed cheeks, but her body was pressed down against him. “Be honest with me, Jon. Was last night your first?”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead he kissed her cheek. “I can’t lie, can I?”

“It’s a simple question. I want to hear it from you, that’s a royal command.”

He sighed. “Yes, only you.”

She sat up, picking up her stray dress on the floor. He heard a chuckle from her. “You don’t believe me?” he asked.

After slipping back into her dress, she sat on the edge of the bed. “I do, but it’s unbelievable.”

“I just admitted it to you, Dany.”

“Where did you learn those tricks, then?” she asked slyly.

“You know that I grew up among soldiers and then became a sellsword. I’ve had befriended men and heard from them, and I - oh, fuck. That’s all I need to say and all you need to know.” 

“I would doubt it. For a man so comely as you, never charmed a woman? Or a man?” she teased. He blushed at her statement that she found him attractive.  _ She’s enjoying this.  _ He moved closer to her and held her by the waist. “I think it’s only acceptable on my terms to kiss and touch someone I have deep feelings for.”

He got her at that point, as well as himself. Dany did not answer and merely looked at him. She leans in to give him a quick kiss. “Goodnight, Jon Snow.”

For days, Dany came to his chambers at night. Sometimes she would only come to him for him to hold her and talk without any intimate ministrations. They spent most nights talking and kissing and the gods know what. Not every night, though, they both knew how suspicious this could be. One time he insisted that he come to her, suggesting any spare room in a Pyramid but her own quarters. She refused, however, arguing to him that she wandering the Pyramid at nighttime would attract less eyes especially the guards on duty. On some days, the only times he would see her were in the throne room or when he greeted her every morning for an idle chat on that same vast corridor.

But on those nights, they never fell asleep together. She would always leave and return to her private quarters.

Jon went to the stream she told him about. He did spur his stallion a little farther through a groove of trees for some privacy. He would strip from his clothes until he was as naked as his nameday, and Jon swore that his baths from that stream were the best and will ever be in his entire life.

He would linger there for hours, before the sun would set. He would soak in the cold water, let his feet touch the mud and small stones underneath. He would imagine Dany naked in his arms too, her beautiful silver hair free from their usual braids and pins. The kind of paradise that he relishes to dream about. Their hasty kisses during the silent nights, the quick chitchats, and stolen glances among the presence of other people, may come to an impending end. Against their own odds.

He knew that she was aware of that too, because every time she kissed him goodnight, it was as dreadful as the way he kisses her back, and his chest aches at the thought of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finished the outline of the plot. I’m estimating that perhaps there would be around ten more chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the kudos and comments! <33
> 
> I had to rewrite larger portions of this chapter, I hope it turned out well. Um, well enough? Read on, read on.

**Jon**

Dany rode ahead of him and the rest of her guards in her silver mare. She wanted to visit the square today, and chose Jon to accompany her. Following the main road from the Pyramid, the people made way for their queen, greeting her with warm smiles and waves. To which Dany returned enthusiastically.

She slowed her mare and turned back to him, beckoning him to ride by her side. He spurred his horse forward. Her queenly smile had gone and was replaced with mischief. “Have you memorized the city with all your heart, captain?”

“Aye, Your Grace. As well as the twisted alleys.” he replied politely.

“I trust you will not find yourself lost to the square.”

He shrugged.

Her smile grew wider, her eyes were laughing. “Race me there.”

Before he could do more than blink, Dany was gone beside him, her silver galloping ferociously. He kicked his stallion on its side with his heels, and went to follow her pace. The wind blew hard on his face, he was grateful for the cool breeze. Jon knew that she had to win, but he couldn’t risk the lack of competition at least for a while. In a few seconds his stallion had caught up, and he took a quick glance at her. The wind blew merrily on her laughing face, her long platinum hair and cloak billowing behind her as though she was a defiant princess running away from her kingdom to seek out a life that should belong to a young girl. She looked young, wild, and free.

The road was clear of passing civilians and trading carts, both of them galloping wildly to the square. The fountain at the center of the square came into sight. Dany’s palfrey was stronger and faster than he thought, he found himself giddy and breathless at the pace they were competing. He pulled his reins just in time to slow his own stallion, and it was Dany who reined up in front of the fountain first. She then circled the fountain, children already gathering close to her.

“You let me win!” she complained with a pout.

Jon quickly swung off his horse and went to her to help her dismount. She gratefully held onto his arms as he lifted her off the saddle. She was petite and weighs as light as a feather, but beneath Jon’s hands her muscles were firm. The way she rode like that confirms that she is a splendid rider. Thunderous hooves and a worried voice came up behind them, speaking hastily in Valyrian. It was one of her guards. When Jon looked around he saw that half of them had dismounted and was looking around vigilantly. She replied calmly, already distracted by a small girl tugging at her skirts.

“What did he say?” asked Jon.

“They thought someone was following me when we galloped away.”

“I’d be dead worried too if you suddenly did that.”

She sat down on the edge of the fountain and let the small girl sit on her lap. “Can you fetch the fruits I’ve brought?” she said.

Jon gave her a small bow and led their horses to the rest of the guards. He then came back with a basket of fruits. Three children now sat around her, chatting merrily. They all grabbed a fruit and ate. Before Jon could turn away to stand guard, Dany spoke up.

“Jon Snow, I’d like you to meet Ava,” she smiled at the girl on her lap. She motioned for the boy and the girl who sat either next to her. “...this is Abbo and Baina.” Dany then spoke to them in Valyrian, and smiled at Jon. Ava said something with a high voice, eliciting a giggle from Dany.

“What did she say?” asked Jon curiously. He knelt down on one knee in front of them to regard the children.

“She says that you’re a pretty man.” Dany teased.

Baina chimed in and giggled with the other two children. Dany blushed, not meeting Jon’s eyes. “Get a fruit for yourself and wait for me, captain.” she dismissed him.

He watched her play with the children. Adults soon approached the queen, varying from the poorest to the nobles. Their words quick with greetings and curtsies. Half an hour later, Dany seemed tired and the sun rose high above them. Jon loosened a lace on his gambeson, and tied his hair again in a higher ponytail. Dany gracefully mounted her silver by herself, and her eyes roamed around and caught him. She gave him a slight nod, and Jon spurred his stallion close to her.

“My advisors might be looking for me.”

“You didn’t tell them that you left?”

“It’s not obligatory for them to know all my whereabouts. If I’m not in the Pyramid, it means that I’m out riding around the city.”

 _And do they know your nightly whereabouts?_ A small voice in his head blurted out. Jon felt guilty for that, but he couldn’t stop it either. He remembered what the little girl said that made Dany blush. He ought to learn Valyrian soon.

“What did the girl say back there?” he asked innocently.

She didn’t respond for a few moments. He looked at her expectantly, and turned her head to look at him when she translated the words. “She said that she wasn’t informed that the queen already has a husband.” then turned away, her face impassive.

“They’re children.” he tried to make it sound like a jest.

“Yes, and children don’t lie.”

The rest of the ride back was silent. Jon felt like his time here in Meereen is all a dream. He had a hundred questions, _thousands,_ for Dany that he can’t bring himself to ask. He is stuck in a dream that he wishes he won’t wake up from. Whenever their conversations would be intimate, she would steer it to a shallow subject like the impending arrival of her enemies from Tolos, she would ask advice from him even though he wasn’t a formal member of her small council. She would tell him about the things she did on a day and ask him in return. She was good at steering words, even by just giving him a single look.

The last time they were intimate with words was the first time they _made love_. Was that even the correct term? The correct phrase? Is he the right man to be allowed in her bed? Technically, it was always his bed. But Jon knew it’s not only that. Why else choose him to accompany her in days like this when she could ask for Grey Worm and an army of her best guards, when she can instead converse with Tyrion Lannister, her Hand of an unstoppable mouth with wise words pouring out of him?

They acted differently around each other when they were not in his chamber. A brooding soldier and a stern queen. Jon couldn’t hide in a mask forever. So does she.

After another night with Dany, she disentangled herself from him and bid him goodnight. Her eyes were alight from the burning candles. Despite the physical light, Jon saw how lonely they were and how desperate she was to hide it from him when she left with an abrupt brush of their lips. He had fallen asleep, and dreamed of her bathing in that stream. She rose and walked towards him naked and wet. She took his hand, and they walked, then briskly, then they were running away. Never looking back.

He woke with a start, panting. The candle had burned out, the room was jet black dark. Jon tried to close his eyes to fall back asleep to no avail. Growing restless, he dressed and lit a taper and left his chamber. The Pyramid was serenely quiet at night. He walked for three laps circling the same route on the same level. He decided to take a flight of steps, then another, praying to grow exhausted. Reaching another level, he found it brightly lit with the torches on the sconces on the wall. He blew out his taper, looking straight ahead on the corridor.

On a narrower hall at his right, he found a marble statue of a man dressed in robes holding a golden whip fashioned in a body of a woman with talons of an eagle. Jon moved closer to study it when he heard something fell with a heavy thud a few feet away from him. He walked stealthily, and he felt his chest tighten in anticipation and curiosity when he heard voices from a room, its door opened ajar.

A few feet away from the room was another narrow hallway. This one was empty and ends on a wall, Jon slowly took the steps forward, and understood the voices talking in the Common Tongue, he slid into the hallway.

“...never mentioned it for days.” a familiar voice said.

“Three brothers are threatening her with war. You can’t expect her to think about the Seven Kingdoms right now.” another voice replied. It belonged to Tyrion Lannister.

“And this war can be easily set aside if she accepted this before.” said the other voice.

Tyrion sniggered. “The queen doesn’t trust wealthy men with empty promises. She already has her own armies and dragons. She has Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor under her rule. These men only want themselves to be associated with the Dragon Queen, and one of them is clearly fascinated by her beauty. Perhaps all three of them.”

Liquid was being poured. Jon assumed it was wine. Tyrion continued, “I know what’s in your mind. Daenerys will never agree to a pact with these brothers with marriage.”

The other man tittered. “Of course she won’t. You were the one who advised her to leave Daario Naharis out of the picture, did you not? Political alliances in Westeros are greatly significant, especially with nuptial connections. You can already imagine the houses of great and small lining up in her court. I would consider excluding your house, my lord.”

Tyrion sniggered again. The discourse was making Jon uneasy, but he stayed rooted at the spot.

“But I don’t think she took your advice seriously, Lord Tyrion. Jon Snow arrived just when the Tyroshi sellsword left.” the man continued in a careful voice. Jon leaned his back on the wall, an idea popping into his mind how this talk shall expand.

“Are you spying on the queen?” asked Tyrion angrily.

“Why, no, my Lord Hand. Anyone with eyes can see. I have birds flying around here as well, just to make sure. I have to admit it to you, just in case hidden enemies care to visit us too. It seems Her Grace likes to take night strolls on the same corridors, and she always disappears into the same chambers.”

“Enemies within? Jon Snow is an opponent spying on the queen?” Jon suddenly sat down on the floor, the question wounding him.

“I did not say that.”

“Do you assume that, then? You said your birds fly around here wary for enemies.”

“Do you?”

“Stop fucking with me, Varys.”

“Well, they certainly are.” Varys stated matter-of-factly. “They also have lovely conversations on mornings, too. Though the queen’s detours are only spotted at night.”

A chair was being pushed, and there were footsteps. “This is a different matter. A different man, someone from Westeros. The queen can legitimize him anytime. He’s not exactly a lowborn. He comes from a noble northern house.”

“Oh, yes.” Varys agreed. “But not the right highborn. Daenerys Targaryen comes from a line of pure nobility and royalty. Some say the Targaryens even have dragon blood running through their veins. A Lord Paramount and Warden must be sufficient. You know it too, my lord.”

“Of course I do!” Tyrion snapped. “Don’t rub it in my face, Lord Varys. I have fallen in love with whores and lowborns alike. A ghastly match for a stupid dwarf like me at a time.”

“Why are you taking this personally? I thought you know how to play this game.”

“And I thought anyone with eyes can see, Varys. Don’t you have a thousand pair of eyes? Ah, I see why. You don’t have a cock, and that lacking even makes you indifferent.” Tyrion mocked.

“What does my phantom cock have to do with this?”

“I cannot tell her the same advice. It’s different, more difficult. I don’t want to hurt Daenerys.” Tyrion said.

“Hurt her?” Varys asked as though Tyrion said a joke. “What’s the difference?”

Tyrion Lannister’s voice was serious when the next words tumbled out. “I enjoy observing people like you do. Their eyes talk louder, Varys. They love one another.”

Jon strode away from the room quickly enough to not hear Varys’ reply. He lit back his taper with one of the torches, and went back to his chamber. His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake. Jon took the wineskin he kept on the small table beside his bed and drank deep, praying that it was dreamwine instead. He let out a few quick breaths, and took another long swig until the skin was empty. His head spun from the quick consumption of wine, and everytime he closed his eyes he saw Dany’s face.

In the morning, he stared blankly at the ceiling of his chamber. He should have planned out the words he must say last night, but the wine got the best of him. Jon pushed himself up from the bed and got dressed for the day. He did not dare go to the corridor where the queen usually spend the early hours of the morning.

He saw her for the first time that day when she arrived in the throne room. Missandei, Tyrion, Varys, Grey Worm, and a couple of guards trailing behind her. Jon stood farther from the steps, and tried to keep a straight face. Her eyes briefly met with his, not the thinnest hint of a smile nor a tiny nod. Today, she is the queen holding court. It droned on for a couple of hours. After dismissing the last visitor, he looked up at her, trying to catch her gaze. She shared a few words with Tyrion and she finally locked eyes with him. As if reading each other’s minds, she stayed sitting on the bench. The members of her council were the first to leave the room and the other guards. Jon made a beeline for the exit, and stopped at the threshold.

She descended the steps and stopped at the middle. She was giving him one of those rare smiles of hers.

“Your Grace.”

“Captain.”

They looked at each other as though they were meeting each other for the first time. Formally. Jon’s chest tightened, and he took the first three steps of the throne.

“I think you should stop visiting my chambers at night, Dany.” he blurted. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, trying to look calm.

Her smile vanished. “What other places would you suggest?”

“Are we a secret?”

She folded her hands in front of her. Jon counted ten seconds before her answer came. “Soldiers and servants see me whenever I leave my chambers. They have duties.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“People see me. Of course they know where your room is. Do you think I’m foolish to not realize that they might have an idea?”

If Dany was angry, her face hid it very well. Unless you look closely into her eyes, she was looking daggers at him. He knew he said the right words to make her violet eyes grow darker. But he didn’t care. She climbed down the steps between them when she replied. “You can’t expect me greet you with a kiss every morning or hold hands with you when I ride out of the city. I’m a queen, and I have to maintain formal liaisons whoever I am with.”

He took a step back when she was too close to him. He took a deep breath. “You’ve just said it, you are a queen. If you are married, to a right man with the right name, would you still be formal and cold? It should be convincing for the people to see you kissing and holding hands.”

“What are you trying to say?” her voice trembled. Her face remained sober.

“This thing...between the two of us.” he looked down on his feet. Then forced to look at her again. “You go to me as if...as if -” he forced a lump down his throat. “Why would you sneak around in your own home to crawl in a bastard’s bed?”

She slapped him. The sharp pain of flesh hitting flesh echoed along the golden walls of the throne room. Jon’s cheek stung, but he did not at least brought his hand to ease it. He can only feel the harsh touch of her hand.

“After our couplings I don’t leave immediately, Jon Snow. I want to spend more time with you. I want to talk to you. I cannot be intimate with you when people are awake.” she sounded hurt.

“That’s what I’m trying to say, _Your Grace._ I should have told you after I kissed you, but I was scared. You make me nervous.” he took her hand, she was so warm.

“One day you will be bound to a marriage again. I cannot be your paramour, I cannot -”

He remembered the conversation he should not have heard the previous night, as clear as a song. _I love you. More than a queen that you are._ He did not say that.

“You said you have formal liaisons to maintain, I’m one of them. I swore my sword and life to you, Dany. You are my queen. I must serve you.” he said desperately, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

She flinched her hand away. “If you say so.” she said sternly. “You may go. Return to your duties, captain.”

But she was the first one to move. She stepped away to avoid any contact with him, like a gust of wind beside him whispering to remind him that he was now alone in the room.

The next day, he went to the practice yard before dawn and hacked his sword against a stone pillar. His fingers got blisters from the aggressive force, close to bleeding. Grey Worm was the second person to arrive at the practice yard, and Jon thought for a moment that he was about to get arrested. However, the commander informed him that his guarding post was assigned outside the main gates.

The scorching sun bit at his skin when he stood guard for a couple of hours. But his cheek felt worse pain, the ghost of a hand slapping him over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That sounds like season 8 Jon...
> 
> Please y’all I think Dany’s temper took over. Maybe because she’s not talking to the person she needs to listen to right now. No, that’s not Jon. Her POV will return next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for all the reviews and kudos! I hope you guys are hanging in there tightly because we are nearing the climax of the story. <3

**Daenerys**

The dragon has awoken, and it seems that she doesn’t want to go back to a peaceful slumber soon.

Once Dany had snapped at one of her handmaids for drawing a bath that was not too hot. She complained about the fruits served to her too ripe. Everything that she tasted seemed to be too bland or too sweet or too salty. She went to the lower terrace gardens to read, and much to her annoyance, the practice yard was near the garden and she commanded the sparring soldiers to halt their training. The food is displeasing, her servants are useless, her soldiers are noisy. Everything is irritating. At the end of the day, Dany realized how rude she was, and took the opportunity to apologize.

She looked at Irri through the looking glass as the Dothraki girl free her hair from its braids, and ran a brush through it. “I’m sorry about the bath earlier, Irri. I lingered long before I dipped in.”

The girl smiled apologetically. “You are just tired, khaleesi. You need some rest.”

The handmaid was right. Dany would feel like the whole world fell on her shoulders when she retired to her chambers at night, and it would not stop there. No matter how exhausted she felt, she would lay awake on her bed for what seems like hours. Until morning comes, and waking up was more tiring. Her bed was desolate and lonely, an absence that makes her feel more naked that she already is when she tries to chase a dreamless sleep.

Dany had tried to play with her own remedies. She sent Jon Snow to a new guard post, making sure that she won’t catch any sight of him. That was a splendid success, as she hasn’t seen him for three days now. There was no word from him of leaving the city without her permission, as she had expected. There was no word from him at all, and Dany almost believed that he may have been a ghost of her past. She could banish him anytime, but why banish a ghost? When the day ends and she goes out to her terrace chambers to watch the dusk fall over the city, _her city,_ her Meereen, her people, her dragons and their dancing silhouettes on the burning hues of the sky, Daenerys Targaryen had everything.

It’s like she’s pretending to have everything. _Being a god feels lonely sometimes._

This morning however, her blood reached its boiling point at the mention of Jon Snow’s name. Dany’s small council sat around her, averting their eyes from her right after raising their suggestion or opinion, anxious to see how will she react. Tyrion casually chimed in Jon Snow to be an additional commander, in case a battle might ensue.

“What of him?” Dany asked coolly, as though she hadn’t heard the name before.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion said calmly. “The captain is a seasoned soldier. He may have ended up as a sellsword, but he grew up and gained the experience of warfare through proper discipline and strategic battles.”

“He’s never had commanded an army before.” she commented.

“He has commanded a small army of sellswords, and your household guard, Your Grace. Why not let him try?”

In the end, Dany allowed Jon to be summoned to the council chambers. She stood from her chair and turned her back on her advisors while they waited. At the sound of the door opening and the footsteps of his boots, Dany felt a knot twist at her chest. She didn’t move.

“You called for me, Your Grace?” said Jon in his heavy northern accent. He sounded unsure. Another knot inside her.

Dany didn’t respond, unmoving. A chilling silence roamed around the room, and Tyrion broke it by clearing his throat. “We are in need of your help, captain. If you are to agree to it.”

“It is a command.” Dany quipped coolly.

She returned to her seat, looking down at the direction of her feet. From her peripheral vision, Jon was standing at the foot of the small steps, near her right side. Dany turned her attention in front of her, staring hard at a spot on the map sprawled on the table. She could feel Jon’s eyes on her, as if he was undressing her in this manner. She wondered about Drogon’s whereabouts, hoping he could burn down the spot where Jon was standing, until he was buried deep down the seven hells.

_This is a ghost I’m dealing with._

Tyrion started, “We are expecting enemies, captain, as I hope you have already heard. Although the queen and the small council had decided to engage in a diplomatic dialogue first, it is wise for us to expect that a possible battle might be enticed. We have the numbers, you see, although not in the armada. The enemy’s fleet will be coming outside the gates and walls of Meereen, and a battle on foot is highly possible. However, we are lacking of commanders. You were summoned here captain, to tell you that you are to lead a large part of the army and to execute battle plans.”

Jon was silent, and he let out an incoherent sound. “Your Grace, I -”

“It was Tyrion’s idea.” said Dany.

“You honor me, Your Grace. But I’m afraid that this is a drastic assignment that I might be incompetent to handle.” said Jon meekly.

“ _Might._ ” she repeated flatly, finally looking at him.

Dany eyed him from head to toe. He stood attentively, hands folded behind him. His hair was immaculately tied, sword and dagger dangling on his hips, the color of his skin was tanned and flushed from sunlight. And to her surprise, he was wearing a grey thin coat that exposed a great deal of his chest, a scar peeking out. The Essosi climate finally caught him. He was looking at her expectantly, submissively. He was grimacing uncertainly.

“You talk of honor, captain. Even willingly shove _unspeakable things_ aside for it. Now it is thrust into your hands, and you deny it?”

“I do not wish to fail you through battle, my queen.”

“You already are, you’re refusing to follow my command.” her voice was an icy steel of venom.

If he wants the two of them to bluntly play their supposed roles around each other, they might as well start practicing.

“I haven’t declined yet, Your Grace. I wanted you to know how cautious I am if you were to give me this task. I do not wish to disappoint you.” he replied calmly.

 _You are disappointing me and I want to burn you alive for it._ She thought fiercely. Tyrion and Varys exchanged a brief glance with each other, and the latter turned to Jon and said, “Can you lead, captain?”

Jon gave him a strange look, then an uncertain one at Dany. “You can never learn how to lead an army until you lead one.” she said.

He bowed his head, “If you will have me, Your Grace.”

Tyrion waved his hands. “That settles it.” he said, a small smile on his face.

“You shall be leading the vanguard, Jon Snow. My scouts tell me that they will be arriving in less than a fortnight, you are required to attend the council meeting starting on the morrow.” said Dany, and Jon’s eyes flashed with alarm for a moment, as though she was sending him to the ends of the world.

She stood up and looked around the people present in the room. “I doubt there would be a bloody and long battle for this. If the enemies do not accept our simple terms, I will burn their fleet.”

In a rush, Dany strode from the table without another word. When she passed Jon, she caught the scent of steel, soap, and his sweat. A nagging sensation ignited within her, and she loathed it. _Is it right to long for someone that you loathe?_ It’s meaningless to yearn for a ghost’s touch and kiss. Khal Drogo had died again, Dany can see her hands pushing the cushion on his face, his life receiving the mercy of her hands. She can see the burning pyre of the great khal. These things that happened a thousand years ago, and is happening again, repeatedly right before her. Khal Drogo is completely gone and lost to her. Jon Snow is an annoying ghost.

Alone, Dany went to the lowest level of the Great Pyramid. There were no windows at the narrow hall that leads outside, the light casts only at its other end, making it gloomy. Dany uttered a command at the guards to open the stone doors, and the sunlight that greeted her was blinding, but she welcomed it. She called silently with all her strength, knowing that he will answer. When she stepped out onto the ground full of dust and sand, Dany could perfectly make out the sea surrounding the city. Several hundred leagues from where she stood, he screeched in obedience. _He always answers._

Drogon flew a circle around the Pyramid before sweeping down swiftly in front of her, growling deeply. Dany smiled, and walked towards him. Drogon lowered his head for her to touch, and she gladly held her hand out and caressed his rough scales.

“Where are your brothers, Drogon?” she cooed. “Don’t you want to fly with them sometimes? It’s terrible to be alone, even when you’re already strong and magnificent.”

Her eyes fell to meet one of Drogon’s. She can see her reflection on his dark irises. Dany was grateful for the presence of her dragon, albeit the other two were not here. Which leaves two more holes gaping in her heart, the next time she shall see them three altogether might be the day when the brothers arrive. _Three brothers, three dragons._ A queer dream for them to imagine, when they are her children and a mother will do anything for her children. As if sensing her loneliness, Drogon bent one wing, offering it for her.

“I will fly with you.” she said, smiling from ear to ear.

Once settled on his back, Drogon let out a roar and the earth seemed to tremble from it. He flapped his wings and rose from the ground. Drogon quickly picked up his pace on the air, and the wind blew against Dany’s face. Blood rushed to every inch of her body, her heart beating fast against her chest. Drogon swooped down towards the sea, the ends of his wings dipped aggressively into the water, spraying the salty waters on her, and she laughed.

They made towards the city, high enough to see almost all of it and low enough to see it clearly. Dany saw and watched in rapid glances. The twisted alleys, smaller pyramids, markets, squares, brothels, fighting pits, and the Great Pyramid that stood the highest of grandeur at the center, the enormous black Targaryen banner billowing on its top.

Drogon flew farther to the outskirts of the city, and landed on a grassy hill near the river. Dany carefully dismounted, expertly stepping her way down his wing. Her eyes were still trained on the colorful city, and she felt a constricted but pleasant knot on her chest, as if she were seeing Meereen for the first time. On the day she sacked Meereen, corpses and blood were strewn on the streets, the slave masters crucified, and the recently freed slaves who did plunder, murder, and rape as if it were a liberated parade were punished. This is her own kind of justice. But that was ages ago. Meereen was restored back to its colorful buildings and walls, with its free people with laughter on their eyes that melts her heart every time Dany goes out to meet them. The color and laughter and Dany herself have given them...

The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros was Aegon’s legacy. A legacy that ended with her father. Now that she has the power to reclaim it, should Dany continue that when the country’s noble families is in war with each other for years? That is questionable, she has the military power, but does she really have the love and support from the people? The way Magister Illyrio had told her brother that they toast and drink secretly for the rightful king? Viserys is dead, and she is the last Targaryen.

 _I don’t think the lords and ladies and the regent monarch pay attention much to you._ Jon had once told her. They do not care, most of them don’t even know that she exists. That wounds her, an inexplicable kind of pain that twists and angers her at the same time.

 _Jon._ The man whom she learned to live a simple life. The familiarity when he calls her by her name is simply everything. She didn’t feel obligated when she sought after for his company. It was more than a desire that burns inside her when she touches him, it was not only for amusement. Why did she have to keep everything between them in secret? He had directed it to her sooner that it would have happened, and she resents him for it. She hates it that he was preoccupied by blood and honor and birthright. The social judgment that her ancestors and their kingdoms had set in that damned country. But that is their legacy and their judgment…

Dany found herself exhilarated at the stunning sight of Meereen before her. The abhorrent anticipation of enemies coming to claim her city and her dragons, how foolish of them. _I conquered this place, I am ruling it, and I shall defend it and raise it to a fruitful state._

Daenerys has her own legacy, too.

She heard a low grumble behind her and saw that Drogon had comfortably settled on the soft grass, almost dozing off. _You’re part of that legacy, my child. You are building it with me._

The happiness and determination she felt that morning with Drogon was brief. Dany ought to keep that in mind, but seeing Jon Snow again after a few days of avoiding him made her feel a hundred emotions clawing their place at the top all at once. That night, she stared blankly at herself at the looking glass of her dresser as Missandei removed the pins and bells from her hair. Another night means another battle of forcing herself to sleep.

“Your Grace?” Missandei asked, uncertain. Dany jerked her head in attention, looking back at her friend through the mirror.

Her silver hair hung freely, cascading around her shoulders. The pale candlelights made it look more like golden platinum strands. Dany stood and was helped by Missandei slip out of her nightgown. Dany tucked herself under the coverlets of her bed. The sheets were cold from the long hours that it was left vacant, and the cool breeze of the night blowing outside the large windows and doors of the terrace chambers even made the air cooler, but Dany found it comfortable.

“Missandei, I could not sleep yet.” Dany said when her friend was about to blow the candles out.

Dany sat up, letting the blanket fall to her waist. Her nipples hardened at the cool breeze. She tapped the other side of the bed, and Missandei went to sit on it.

“I’m sad, Missandei.” Dany blurted silently, then rested her head on the headboard of the bed.

Her friend’s face softened. “It’s _him_ , is it?” she said, as if it’s the most obvious thing. Which was true. Dany’s words said otherwise.

“How can I be sad about him when I almost called Drogon to burn him when he appeared in the council chambers? Tyrion could have joined him, too.” Dany shook her head. “Tyrion made a point, anyway. I cannot call Daario back here to command, there’s no time for him to ride back when the bloody brothers are crossing the seas nearer to Meereen. Someone must hold the other cities.”

“You bother too much, my queen.” Missandei reached out to hold one of Dany’s hands. Dany gave her a squeeze, feeling slightly relieved. “Is that the only reason why you cannot summon Daario?”

“It makes sense for the security of Yunkai.” _Can Jon still be jealous when he himself had recoiled from her?_ “And Daario was just a bed warmer. He was nothing for me in terms of my affections. If he and Jon...” she admitted, trailing off.

“And Jon Snow?” Missandei urged.

“I’m mad at him.”

Dany was surprised when her friend giggled. “Your Grace, you are hesitating.”

The queen quirked her brow and retorted,  “I’m now providing him the relationship he wants.”

“Does he really want it? Do you?”

Jon Snow was still a brooding enigma to her. He was so adept at painting his face to a grimace, as though it was invalid for him to smile. One that she found it easy for him to do until he was suddenly honorable and yielding to her. Dany found that infuriating, but at the sleepless cold nights, she was sad about his absence. The ambivalent nature of Jon Snow was even more difficult to manage than ruling a city and taming her dragons.

Missandei edged closer to her and took her other hand. “You’re angry because you are resisting your feelings, Your Grace. It’s hurting both of you.”

“Are you resisting Grey Worm?”

Her friend smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “If I did I shouldn’t have accepted of teaching him the Common Tongue. Which helped the both of us to grow closer together.”

Once Dany started visiting Jon in the inn, they have been growing closer together. If she had not walked that part of the shore or chose to help him by ordering someone to tend to him, they will not end up like this. Dany winced at the thought of not being able to find him, or take care of him herself. That would have been a huge regret.

“I envy you Peaceful People sometimes.” said Dany, dreaming of being able to handle Jon Snow in a less violent way.

“Perhaps the Lord of Harmony is calling out to you. Your mind and heart are in chaos, Your Grace. How can you be the Breaker of Chains if you are leaving your heart imprisoned?”

To that, Dany had no response. She slumped on her pillows with a frustrated huff, and Missandei smiled warmly at her. Her friend took it as a sign of resignation for slumber, and proceeded to blow out the candles. When the last taper had been blown out, Dany raised herself on one elbow, searching for her friend’s face in the darkness.

“Missandei?”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Can you stay here with me?” she asked contritely.

Without a word, Missandei slipped into the bed next to her. Dany reached beneath the coverlets and searched for her friend’s hand. Their fingers intertwined in a familiar tangle.

Dany found sleep with a lighter heart tonight. A confounded, soft, heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To non-readers of the books: People in Essos normally sleep naked because of the excruciatingly hot climate and Dany sleeping naked is way too damn fine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you, as usual!
> 
> ...There's no way up but to read along.

**Daenerys**

Every person who was permitted inside the council chambers every time a meeting was held seemed to be engrossed with maps, battle strategies, ships, and dragons. Even Dany’s mood shifted away from Jon Snow, whom she found a less distracting presence, but still with a stony acknowledgement. Once or twice the captain moved closer to her to adjust the miniature clay figures on the maps, and Dany would rather watch his hands directing areas and listen to the contents of what he was saying, _not_ the deep accent in his voice that she had grown accustomed to.

“Are you sure with five thousand men, my lord?” Dany asked Varys.

The eunuch nodded. “Two of my birds are acting as personal servants to the brothers themselves, Your Grace. One is a cupbearer, the other is a whore to the commander himself.”

“We still cannot underestimate their number.” said Jon.

“How about the use of scorpions or any device against dragons?” Dany inquired, clasping her hands together to hide a slight tremble at the thought of her children in danger.

“Not that they know of, Your Grace.”

It sounds easy to burn down a fleet when you have three full grown dragons. Dany had seen that close enough when she faced the slave masters ages ago. Her terms were simple, she will ask the enemies, _visitors,_ to become her allies instead without ensuing a battle between them. However, she and the rest of her council were high in doubts that the brothers would accept that. _Marriage._ It was the single proposal that they might ask for, they sailed with an army behind their backs as though they were to hunt down a treasure. 

Dany was not a maiden to be won as a trophy of war, no less than her dragons. A dragon is worth a hundred thousand soldiers, a legacy of her family. Furthermore, _these dragons are her family._

As if war was that simple. When Dany conquered the Bay of Dragons, she was resolute of freeing the slaves, and that was the mere fuel of her purpose. True, there is the spirit of purpose in war, and Dany doesn’t wish to live the rest of her life as a queen by making battle plans and riding Drogon to bring fire and blood. Dany is playing a different piece now, she shall _defend._

In late afternoon, Dany and Tyrion went down to the dungeons to visit Lucas, the captive spy whom the Lannisters have sent to assassinate Olenna Tyrell. _An indirect threat._ Dany thought. Tyrion was skeptical at her sudden request to pay the captive a visit, and that he was invited along.

“I need your advice if I were to need it, and you shall bear witness.” she explained. Though he might relent at the decision she will soon impose, which she will not heed.

The dungeons, that have also served as the dragonpit, reeked of rotten flesh. It has been several moons since Rhaegal and Viserion had set themselves free, but the pungent memory their previous meals still lingered beneath. Being locked up here in a long time could serve as a torturous punishment, Dany was surprised that Lucas is still surviving, the stench itself could kill a man. Dany ought to have the dungeons cleaned every once in a while, and a new dragonpit to be built for her dragons for them to rest. The very same dome King’s Landing have. _She has her own legacy, too._

Two gaolers who held torches led them through the hall of cells. The air was cold and damp, and Dany etched closer to the light. Stopping at the designated cell, Dany saw a ragged figure move beyond the rusted iron bars. The man blocked the sudden presence of bright light with his arms, he was crouched in the corner of the cell. Slowly, he lowered his arms and squinted at the new company. His hair had grown greasy long enough to touch his shoulders, a thick beard covered his jaw, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Dany could faintly remember the face of this man, but she could tell that he grew worse.

“Your Grace?” he croaked.

Dany glanced at one of the gaolers and posed a question in Valyrian. “Don’t you at least light a single torch down here?”

“Light only greets the prisoner when he is given food and water, my queen.” replied the gaoler.

She turned back to the captive. “Do you find the rations of food sufficient, Lucas?”

He stared at her with wide eyes, and nodded vigorously. She thought otherwise.

“I am setting you free today, Lucas.”

Tyrion blurted at once. “Your Grace, he might be a useful -” he stopped when she held out her hand.

“You were sent for Olenna Tyrell. I am here to inform you that she was found in Westeros weeks ago, and has been executed. I find no use of your imprisonment anymore. You were not sent for me, aren’t you?”

“N-No, Your Grace. I thank you...very much” he stammered.

“However,” she lowered her voice. “You will be banished from Meereen. I will provide you a purse of coin and it would be on your own decision how will you spend it. You will leave the city on the morrow before dawn at once. If you stay any longer, I will have your head or burned alive, whichever I feel to do at that time.”

The captive tried to stand, staggering. He walked with flimsy balance towards the iron bars closer to where Dany and her companions stood, and fell on his knees. He started sobbing, his face hidden behind his slender, dead, hands.

“Look at me, Lucas.” she said quietly.

His face appeared, tears falling down his cheeks. “I shall be gone by the time you said, You-Your Grace...I shall indeed. Thank you...thank you.”

“Serve other kings, queens, lords, and ladies for all I care. Meereen has no part of it. I wish you good fortune on your journey.”

With that, Dany ordered the gaolers to lead them out. Their footsteps rang eerily on the damp floor, the rest of the walk back above the main levels of the Pyramid was quiet. Through the dimly lit dungeons, Dany can already hear Tyrion arguing. To which, she was right. Her Hand had started springing questions when they climbed up the stairs to the entrance. 

“Your Grace, Lucas could still be a working spy for Cersei. He may have other information. You cannot just send him to exile that way! Granted with coin? In his own free will? What if he is to rouse other accomplices that remain in Essos?” Tyrion hastily argued.

“I can exile him and I just did.” Dany replied calmly.

They entered the main hall and Dany stopped at the center, facing her Hand.

“The reason why your sister had sent assassins all over the world is to hunt and kill Lady Olenna. She is dead, isn’t she? The evil deed is done. House Tyrell had been a tremendous hindrance to your sister, and now she has accomplished.” she said.

“He may come back to Westeros and report about you.”

Dany gave him a small smile. “Would Cersei Lannister even care for a lost single bird when her atrocious plan in executing a great house has been done weeks ago? Tales of me are sung around Westeros, my lord. I am aware of that, and most of them are false tune to their ears. Might be even unheard of.”

He looked at her incredulously. She continued, “What use of imprisoning a Lannister scout when I have not raised a threat against his mistress? Westeros has its own queen and own wars. As we do, my lord hand. We are separate matters from each other.”

Tyrion’s face softened at the last of her sentences. Dany only hoped that he may have grappled the very sense of what she said and what she did. Tyrion Lannister could be the easiest person to understand her. She finally excused himself before he could argue further.

One morning, these raucous battle plans seem to cease when Dany arrived alone in the council chambers and stopped abruptly when she saw Jon Snow already arranging the maps to be used. It was the first time for them to be alone together in the room since _that_ foolish declaration of his. Jon looked up at her, and stood straight at once.

“You’re early.” she said as a greeting, unsmiling.

He shrugged. “I woke before dawn broke and cannot go back to sleep, Your Grace. I thought I could assess the plans sooner, so I could keep up with the meeting.”

 _Do you find sleep troublesome too, Jon?_ She thought curiously, wishing she could blurt out this question and hear the answer she wants to hear from him. Dany climbed the small steps and stood across to him, the table standing between them. Jon had left his hair loosed from his usual leather band, the way Dany enjoyed looking at it and running her fingers through them. He kept a stern face, and knowing how he will try to escape from this encounter, Dany pressed on. Perhaps a little giddiness would be fine in the midst of war.

“I think you are doing very well, captain. Otherwise I would have changed my mind and find another commander for your position.” _you fool, you’re supposed to be angry with him._

She saw that he took a deep swallow, his Adam’s apple moving uncharacteristically. Beneath those brooding grey eyes and icy face, _she still has an effect on him._ And it’s quite dangerous, the familiar heat and ache nudged her on the mere sight of his glorious loosened hair. He closed his hands into fists and pressed them on the surface of the table, leaning on it and bowing his head. Dany was displeased that he was hiding his face.

“I pray they would accept your terms, or well - you’ll be more than pleased with their own. Swords cannot win everything.” he said.

“So are words.” she quipped. “Are you telling me that you were only forced to accept this position given to you? Don’t you want to fight?”

His head jerked up, icy grey eyes meeting her amethysts. “I would fight any battle for you.” he said vehemently. The reply was too quick.

Turning away reluctantly, Dany sent him out to rouse and summon the rest of the council. She heard him sigh, a tense breath that he must have been holding for way too long. Dany could not stand another second with him any longer. He sounded as if he was _swearing_ of what? Fealty? Was he reassuring her that he won’t abandon her armies? _You are hesitating._ Missandei’s words rang repeatedly in her ears.

It is not hesitation when she had granted him the honor of command over her army. She listened to his plea and granted him the concession of ending their torrid affairs in place of his damn honor. That was merciful of her. His heart must swell with pride and valor as a battle commander of the Dragon Queen. When you lead, you must be at the front. Just like when she rides Drogon into battle, the roar of her dragons were the cue of attack. The beacon of strength and power.

War is Dany’s least favorite in ruling. It must be true that there are no victories won in wars. There will always be losses, even if counted few. _There will be no battle._ There will be a fair decision between both sides and these three idiots will comply to it. Otherwise, she will burn them all straight away. Meereen shall not witness and suffer under another attack when she had just recently defended it against the slave masters. Jon Snow, Grey Worm, and Qhono will not execute the plans they have made with the council. _Jon,_ this will not be the first battle he will lead. At least not yet for a long time. Dany disliked war.

She sat a good distance away from him during the meeting.

Two days later, Dany woke from a dreamless sleep. She got up, donned a robe, and padded barefoot to the terrace garden of her chambers. A few of her scouts came to tell the council that the Tolosi fleet is estimated to be at least two days away from Meereen. Perhaps this was the reason why she was being wary and rest could not be her companion at the moment. 

Darkness still stretched on the sky, but it was already tinged with thin lines of blue and purple. She can faintly hear the sounds of armor, mail, and steel far down below, her armies preparing to meet their _guests._ Dany took her time soaking in the bath and have her hair braided in intricate knots. When she came back out the terrace, the sky was already in the colors of pale pink and white. And then she saw quite clearly.

Hundreds of tiny dots littered on the sea’s surface. The fleet looked like an army of ants from this distance. Ants who dare cross a dragon’s pit. Missandei later came back to tell her that a single galley with peace sails has already been dispatched to meet the arriving Tolosi army to inform them of Dany’s desired meeting on the shoreline. Dany broke her fast first before getting properly dressed. She chose a red gown that cut low on her chest, with tiny onyx beads sewn around the bodice. The skirts embroidered with thin silver threads, as though the gown looked like a bloody waterfall with silver snakes falling from it. Underneath the delicate dress she wore a pair of black riding breeches. To ease herself against the cold morning, she donned a black cloak clasped with a dragon brooch at the center.

She will not face this one alone. She has her dragons, advisors, armies, and her people. She must protect her people. Dany’s lips curved into a small, subtle smile. Urging herself to be confident. She was very pleased with the gown she was wearing today. When the guards opened the doors of her chambers, her jaw clenched in surprise.

Jon Snow was standing attentively outside, and his feet shifted beneath him when he saw her. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. He was in full battle gear today, though in less armor. Underneath his plain breastplate he wore a gambeson, a pair of breeches, and his longsword and dagger tucked into their scabbards around his sword belt.

He cleared his throat. “Are we to ride out now, Your Grace?”

“Yes.” she said.

She let him walk a good foot away from her as they walked on the corridor of her quarters.

“Fifty Unsullied and fifty Dothraki shall ride out with us to the shoreline.” she commanded.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

Walls pressed on the staircase that led to her quarters, and the torchlights on the sconces were still lit. Dany watched the golden lights glint on Jon’s steel plate and dance on the strands of his hair that was tied with a leather band. On the first landing though, Dany had only took a brief glance to see that no one was there and when she turned again a yelp escaped her throat.

Jon had grabbed her face with both of his hands and he was kissing her hard. And of course, she kissed him back. Dany’s mouth welcomed his tongue, prodding her lower lip as though asking for permission. She leaned in closer, and she accepted his invitation as desperate as he was. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashed fiercely. Her fingers went to wrap around his wrists, holding him securely. His fingertips gently stroked the nape of her neck, tingling her. Dany’s chest tightened, telling her to let go, to let herself breathe. Jon did let go though, and their ragged breaths were the only thing that she could hear. Then it was Jon’s voice again, then guards were spilling into the corridor and she felt the back of his hand brush weakly against her skin.

“Escort the queen to the yard.” she heard him say, and then Dany was climbing down the rest of the endless stairs, and she was walking outside of the Pyramid. A groom helped her mount her precious silver mare, and she scanned her guards and retinues surrounding her. Jon Snow was nowhere to be seen.

The main road was flanked with Unsullied and the Dothraki guards rode behind her. Missandei rode by her side, and just a couple of feet behind rode Grey Worm and Qhono. Ahead, the tall gates of Meereen opened for her entourage. People looked out from the windows of their houses, and children ran on the gutters, jumping behind the armored shoulders of the Unsullied to have a glance at their queen. 

They rode out of the gates, unto the vast, dusty clearing and to the grove trees that stood beside the outer beach. Dany winced at the memory of the mockery of burning trees, bushes, and flowers, and the hideous crucified children the first time she came to Meereen. She has seen to it that the olive trees have regrown and taken care of, even though it was outside the vicinity of her city. This became her home for a brief time, after all. The rest of her guards waited on the beach, and in a clearing wide enough among smaller trees a small tent was erected for her. Outside stood the rest of her advisors, including Jon Snow.

One of her maids aided her to dismount. The faint sound of a synchronized thumping of drums shook the tranquil atmosphere of the beach. _They are near._ Dany walked farther out of the grove to watch the arriving fleet clearer. On their masts were sails of brick red, but she could not make out a sigil just yet. 

“How long shall we wait?” she asked no one in particular, her back turned on them.

“Perhaps less than an hour, Your Grace. We are hoping that a few boats shall dock here to meet you. Doubtless, they would listen to our envoys and hear from you personally.” said Tyrion.

“We are aware of their slingers, they should be also aware of my dragons.”

And her Hand was right. The drums stopped, and a dozen boats were being rowed towards the beach. The boat at the center was the largest, and after a few minutes Dany recognized the Tolosi brothers whom she met several moons ago. The two of them wore brightly colored _tokars._ She presumed the eldest one was Krono paz Toraq, the man who boasted himself as the _Clever_ of the three. The _Charming_ she does not know the name, and the _Strong_ who looked like the youngest and tallest among the three, donned a thin copper armor and his arms left bared. He held a spear that was at least seven feet tall, with a dark blade longer than a dirk’s.

The brothers and their own soldiers stepped out of their boats. A longer ebony bench similar to the bench where Dany sat was brought to them. The comely brother however, strode past it and walked to her, his bright blue eyes planted on her and a stiff smile so wide she could see all his teeth. Dany realized how ridiculously white his teeth were. Her guards immediately stood in stance, their spears pointed at the approaching man, but she held out her hand. His smile vanished, shocked by her guards, but proceeded and came down on the sand on one knee. Dany offered her hand and he kissed it.

“A warm greeting on behalf of my dear brothers, to Her Majesty the Dragon Queen.” he said in the Common Tongue with a thick accent.

“I’m afraid I have forgotten your name the last time we met, my lord. If I am not mistaken, it was only Krono who introduced himself completely.” said Dany courteously.

He stood, his white flashing smile back. “I am Karim paz Toraq, the fairest Tolosi. If it please Your Grace.”

“And Karim will do well to sit here with us. You shall have your betrothed soon, brother.” said the armored brother also in the Common Tongue who was now standing. “I am Amit paz Toraq, Your Grace.”

Dany looked sternly at Amit, she internally winced at the mention of the word _betrothed._ She could only wonder how conceited can these three idiots could go far. All three of them sat down on the bench.

“Forgive me...commander, did my ears mishear? A betrothal to whom?” inquired Dany.

“You, my beauty. No one else befits the fairest man across Essos.” chimed in Karim haughtily.

Dany offered them a well-practiced, stiff smile. “You misinterpret. You have offered me the same proposal not so long ago and I refused. My deepest apologies, but I am not open to a political marriage.”

Tyrion took a step forward. “The queen’s terms are simple, gentlemen. Queen Daenerys will amiably accept a diplomatic alliance with you. As a Tolosi alliance is beneficial for both sides, we have already forgotten the hostility your governors sent back to the queen when she offered alliance before. As you can see, the Bay of Dragons is now at peace.”

“In what manner of alliance?” asked Krono.

“The way states offer friendship and aid for each other. A pact.” replied Tyrion.

“A marriage to my brother Karim is very clear, then.”

Dany felt her anger rise, but she swallowed it. For now. “ _Again, my lord._ ” she said with a hint of impatience in the tone of her voice. “I will not accept marriage if it is not that necessary.”

Amit sarcastically exclaimed something that sounded like Ghiscari. A couple of their own soldiers chuckled, Karim smirked, and Krono remained serious.

“I did not expect we will be welcomed here on the beach outside the city the second time we set foot in Meereen to see you, Silver Lady.” said Krono slyly.

“You are _outside_ Meereen.” Dany stressed the words. _This city is mine._

Krono raised his brows, his neck turning beet red. Veins almost popping out on his temples. “But I see you have been expecting us.”

“A large fleet like that will spread a fast word. May I remind you, I am not blind, my lord.”

The eldest brother stood up abruptly. “You will not offend the mightiest of the Tolosi this way, woman! If you do not accept, we will force it on you, and mayhaps become your death.”

“Why don’t we do this the old way? One man against another?” 

Dany’s head snapped at the voice. Jon Snow walked past her bench, and her heart started hammering against her chest.

“Who are you?” asked Krono.

“One of the queen’s commanders. And we are offering you another term, my lord. If you won’t heed the words, then we will listen to the sound of steel.”

Who said anything about _we?_ And when did Jon Snow become so poetic?

Jon continued, his voice firm and unflinching. “Only one person’s blood will stain Meereen. A battle is not in your favor, my lords. Surely you are aware of the queen’s military forces. If your champion fails, you will leave the city at once. If our champion loses however, we will consent to your terms.”

He turned to Dany, his expression resolute and... _grieving?_ “I will be your champion, Your Grace. I command none of your Unsullied or Dothraki. There will be no difference whatever the outcome.”

“ _Jon Snow!_ ” she half exclaimed and half whispered, suddenly out of words.

Amit paz Toraq stood, the blade of his spear glinting against the sunlight. He looked very amused. “A brave and wise commander Queen Daenerys has here, if I only wish you help me command my own army.”

Dany eyed the youngest brother anxiously. He was at least another foot taller than Jon. Broad hips and a broader chest. Muscles ripped ominously on his arms. Even his spear was taller than Jon. He cannot face this man. 

Jon had only kissed her not a while ago. Was this the purpose of his kiss? A farewell? Tears came pooling around the corners of her eyes but did not fall, and when she opened her mouth to call Jon no sound came out. She cannot lose him, not here, not now, _ever._ She should have talked to him before their enemies came to dock, she should have kissed him again and forgave him. Damn her council and the world if they saw. Jon is not a forbidden man. He is a good man, a sweet, good, man that deserves to be happy and to be _loved_. He should be here beside her.

She stood up from the bench and she and her retinues moved closer to the grove of trees and the brothers moved backward to the shoreline. A space given for combat.

“Is this wise?” she asked somebody. _Somebody._

Tyrion always had the answer. “Wise if the captain prevails. This is an easier way.” he sounded anxious, too.

“ _Jon Snow._ ” she repeated, louder this time.

When Jon turned, she walked towards him. Far enough from anyone who can hear them.

“You cannot do this.” her voice cracked.

“You have to trust me.”

“Have you seen the man?” she hissed. “He’s three times taller and broader than you are!”

Her anger came back again, but something overpowered that. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and he moved his hand to hold hers instead. His face started to blur from the tears prickling in her eyes again, she choked back a sob. The feeling of his skin against hers made her feel like she was on fire. His last kiss still lingered on her lips. _No, that will not be the last._ But the enemy loomed before them, and before Jon could reply, Amit’s deep voice boomed out again. She flinched away from Jon, and walked back to her bench. Every step she took was painful, the world was shattering around her.

Dany must call her dragons. She must send a silent command to Grey Worm to raise the rest of her forces. No one will take Meereen, not her people, not her dragons, not Jon Snow.

“We behold you our champion, Dragon Queen!” bellowed Karim paz Toraq proudly.

She was perplexed however, when Amit paz Toraq moved aside and shouted orders. Several of his men walked to one of the nearest boats, and Dany saw that they were pulling something heavy out of it. Something moving. Then she realized that it was a person whose head was hidden beneath a small ragged sack. His wrists were chained. He was roughly shoved onto the sand, the sea water soaking into his tunic. Then the soldiers crowded around him, Dany made out an armor being put on him, and his wrists freed from the chains.

Amit walked close to his captive and said something to him. When the men cleared away, a soldier urged the captive forward, and Dany felt a hundred hot white knives stabbing her chest, she suddenly forgot how to breathe. _She would recognize those broad shoulders anywhere._ Her other hand that was wrapped around her wrist tightened so hard she might break her own bones. Tyrion Lannister cursed silently beside her.

A soldier went to pull the sack from his head and handed a longsword to Ser Jorah Mormont.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER.
> 
> \- As Tyrion had mentioned, in the books, Dany sent envoys to Tolos to forge an alliance but instead received an opposing message telling her to give back Meereen to the slave masters.  
> \- As described in the books, there’s a beach outside the walls of Meereen. I watched the clip when Dany first came to the city and the show didn’t portray that description. So please don’t be confused.  
> \- Tolos is famously known for their deadly slingers.  
> \- One of the brothers spoke Ghiscari. Tolos was a colony of the Valyrian Freehold, but their city was not affected by the Doom. After the destruction of Valyria, they grew close to the Ghiscari cities of Slaver's Bay. I think there's a chance that their culture was divided, at least. I don't know if their language is Ghiscari or Valyrian or something else if anyone knows, please feel free to tell us! :) (or maybe these brothers are just multilingual lol)  
> \- I kinda made up the names of these brothers but I made a quick search of Arabic names because Essosi names sound like Arabic, or basically people from Central, Western, or South Asia. I admit I don't really know what references GRRM had used for Essosi people, I just judged them on their looks and the sound of their names.  
> \- Dany's been dropping a few hints since the previous chapters...I hope you guys didn't miss that. XD
> 
> I'M SORRY AGAIN.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** Mild violence and, well, you guys know what you came here for. ;)

**Jon**

His valiant heart turned out to be a stupid decision.

When Jon was younger, he was privileged to be taught by a maester. Jon had memorized almost all of the sigils and words of every house in Westeros, and paid special attention to the houses of the North.

Without a mistake, the bear of House Mormont glinted on the exiled knight’s breastplate. The hard lines and wrinkles on Ser Jorah’s face and neck indicated that he was old enough to have at least a hundred songs written and sung about his great deeds. That could have been possible, if he wasn’t exiled. He stared at Jon with dark cold eyes, but when they looked over his shoulder, his eyes softened, as though they were on the brink of tears. Jon remembered his inquiries about Ser Jorah from Tyrion Lannister. _The queen’s most loyal advisor and friend._

Jon realized that the knight is looking at Dany in a way that displeased him, though Jon has his back turned on the queen, he didn’t want to see her. Have she and Tyrion forgotten to mention something about Jorah Mormont? A sudden urge rushed through Jon to attack aggressively and... _the queen’s most loyal advisor and friend…_

If Daenerys Targaryen punished treason the way Daenerys Targaryen would do, the man before him must be dead a long time ago. But here he stands, as a captive fighting against his beloved queen. In a combat that didn’t go the way Jon had expected to, he was surprised and confused and angry and afraid all at once. _He had seen her grow from an innocent child to an endearing queen._ Tyrion had told him. If anyone should die from this unexpected farce of these brothers…Jon never knew Ser Jorah, but he is the closest _companion_ Daenerys ever had for the longest time, and he knew that Dany would be deeply hurt. If Jon dies...by all Seven Hells, this is the most heinous match that the world has ever seen. One way or another, Dany will possibly trigger this war in an instant.

“Ser,” Jon said curtly, slightly bowing his head.

The knight furrowed his brows. “You know me?”

“A northern lad like me would.”

Ser Jorah’s eyes flashed with recognition, though he was still looking at him coldly.

“You can continue your discussion on your graves, Sunset soldiers! The queen is growing impatient. Entertain her!” bellowed Amit paz Toraq from the bench where he and his brothers sat. A roar of laughter followed from their side.

Jon felt the veins on his neck grow firm, his muscles clenching. He unsheathed his own longsword from its scabbard. He looked over Jorah’s shoulder, quickly scanning how far they were from the brothers’ bench. _There is a way_ . Their faces were maliciously amused, and Jon’s anger rose rapidly. _One player cannot play alone._

“An entertainment, then.” he told Jorah through gritted teeth.

They swung their swords at the same time, the sharp clash of steel breaking the tranquil waves of the sea. Each man can see and anticipate their opponent’s move. Jon swung upward for a low jab, and Jorah’s blade was there to meet him. Their swords never left their front, never exposed their body except for their arms. Jon slid his foot to his side in a long stride, and Jorah’s eyes and body followed him.

Ser Jorah is a northman like him, their fighting styles are not far from each other. The older knight might already have a bit of an age, but he was still formidable with the sword. Jon may be quicker, but the older knight was broader and stronger. Jorah went for an overhand attack, Jon parried it in a heartbeat, and the force of the man’s arm and weight of the steel together sent an excruciating jolt of pain through Jon’s right arm. He gripped his sword more tightly with both hands, attempting to hide the pain with a stern face.

Jon hacked his sword in an arc sideways. Left, right, left, right, the jabs met with the same force by Jorah. Jon stepped backwards, their swords pointed at each other. He took his steps sideways, and Jorah did the same, both of them sauntering in a circle until Jon caught sight of Dany sitting stiffly on her own bench. She seemed to be watching them blankly, pale as a ghost. Jon returned his attention to the knight, _the queen’s most loyal advisor and friend._ Jon is doubtful if Dany will ever consent to the brothers, this was not her proposition in the first place. _Daenerys is losing on both sides, and it’s all my fault._  

“You fight very well for someone so young like you.” said Jorah.

Jon nodded. “There’s another time for thanks.”

 _There will be._ He just needed the right moment. He shall not fail his queen. _His love._

Jon parried another upper cut from the knight, and he took a step back for every blow. The rapid exchanges of jabs started to tire him, foreign insults from the actual enemies thrown at his back. Jon’s right arm was sore and numb, as though it was moving impulsively to fight a ghost. Then he lost direction, his arms falling in such a heavy weight, Ser Jorah’s blade incised keenly against his breastplate, barely reaching his throat.

The blows stopped, and someone pushed him roughly to his left side. He staggered, though he caught his balance. When Jon looked around, he saw that they got too near to the brothers, the three of them having the time of their lives. Jorah was scowling at him. 

The raucous foreign taunts were louder, the soldiers following to their masters’ sarcastic cheers. 

Jon held his sword with both hands once again, and gave Jorah a determined look. Preparing to charge, the whispering waves of the sea and the rude urges were drowned by a series of loud, deadly screeches. The soldiers looked up at the queer sound, as well as the brothers, their faces bright with awe. But it was no queer sound to Jon Snow nor Jorah Mormont. If you have spent an ample period of time with Daenerys Targaryen, you will get used to _them_.

Sometimes the deadliest weapon is using your enemy’s own weapon.

Then the world was a quick blur of blood and steel. Jon reached for the dagger tucked at his belt, took aim, Jorah’s eyes widened. Jon Snow threw the dagger with a sheer force. Amit paz Toraq had the quick reflex to tore his eyes away from the sky but his hands were not fast enough. The dagger thrust squarely on his right eye, the blood squirting in a relentless fountain. The rest of the soldiers surrounding them had scarcely torn their attention away from above and Jon took the opportunity to swing his sword at the nearest one, slicing him from his temple through the helm, brains and blood spattered on his front. Waves of anger rushed through his veins, his legs leading him to some bloodbath lust. Jon cut down two more men before grabbing Karim paz Toraq roughly by the scruff of his tokar, who was squirming and squealing.

Jon pushed the oaf down on the sand, and stepped on his chest with his foot. He raised his sword and flaring with anger, until a voice stopped him.

“ _Stop it this instant!_ ”

Jon looked up and saw that Dany was walking briskly towards them, head held up high, her black cloak and red skirts flying behind her. Her advisors trailed behind as well. A mix of Unsullied and Dothraki have already approached and surrounded them, their spears and _arakhs_ glinting ominously. When he looked back, the Tolosi soldiers had their spears pointed as well, but a ludicrous number of them were trembling. 

“Not yet, Jorah.” commanded the queen.

Jon looked around and saw the knight holding Krono paz Toraq by his grey white hair, who was on his knees. The third brother knelt on the sand, leaning his arm on the bench and moaning in agony, the dagger still pierced his eye. The dark ink of his blood trickled down on the front of his armor, stained his breeches, and seeped into the sand beneath his knees. There was another screech from the sky. Karim sobbed beneath Jon. One of the enemy soldiers who donned a golden armor that was different from the copper of his comrades stepped forward to Dany’s direction. Five of the queen’s soldiers nearest to her stepped forward at once. The opponent winced and looked back cautiously at them, then he removed his helm, and dropped it on the sand with his spear. He went down on one knee before her.

He kept his head bowed as he said something under his breath. Missandei went to translate. “ _I am Zamir Taloq, son of Jachin. The Great General of the Mighty Militia of Tolos. The Toraq brothers bought us with more than three-quarters of their wealth half a year ago, almost the remnants of it. Hoping to win your hand and heart, Your Grace. This army has no hope and purpose without a true leader. Forgive us, Dragon Queen. With your mercy we shall serve you._ ” when he looked up at her, his face was so frightened, helplessly hopeful.

Krono paz Toraq shrieked words that sounded offensive, spitting at the general’s direction. Missandei’s eyes widened, and whispered the translation to Dany’s ear. The queen’s eyebrows furrowed, her amethyst eyes flaring. The eldest brother then turned to Jon and spat.

“You do not fight fair, you scum! This is a combat for a champion against a champion!”

“And how dare you choose one of my knights as your _champion_ ?” Dany snapped. “Your captive is not yours to use against his true side, _my lord._ He is not your man, and never will be.”

She walked closer to Krono, looking down at him spitefully. “You took care of your general since he was a child and _loved_ him, you say? To win over their armies with pretentious gold and the sword between your legs?”

“Didn’t you do the same exploits to raise your own forces, my queen?” spat Krono. Dany merely glared at him, but the rest of her face was void of any expression.

She turned to the general and beckoned him to rise with a lazy wave of her hand. “If you speak true of your fealty, seize your masters.” Missandei told him the translation and the general yelled orders in a heartbeat. Dany locked eyes with Jon. “Let them take care of the pretty man, captain.”

Jon had a tinge of scorn curiosity when she called Karim _pretty_ , but he supposed it was meant to be sarcastic. He stepped away from the man and trudged closer to Daenerys, his sword still at the ready.

“One more thing,” she looked sternly around the men, Unsullied, Dothraki, and the Tolosi soldiers alike. The brothers were now held, and Jon was surprised to see Amit still alive but barely breathing. He almost felt sorry for the man. But letting go of that dagger felt good. “Strip them of their clothes and tie them to the horses.”

She did not move, a tense silence hanging in the air. “I want Karim paz Toraq to accompany me and my palfrey.”

Dany turned and walked away without another word. Jon had a glance of Tyrion Lannister quickly conversing with Jorah Mormont. The knight nodded, and pulled the sleeve of his tunic to reveal his skin. Tyrion nodded curtly. Then Jon remembered. If he was still ill of greyscale, he would leave the city at once. But that was not his to discuss, he was a foreigner to the knight. 

Jon watched the back of Dany stalk away from them. His bloodlust was a brief beast compared to the queen. He could sense how angry she was, there was no question to the punishments she had just imposed in such haste and force.

Dany had the naked body of Amit tied to Jon’s stallion. After tightening the ropes, the man fell with a loud thump on the grass and stones. _He is dead._ Jon could hear the rough sound of his body getting dragged against the ground when they rode back to the city. The sun had already risen high and glaring.

He glanced at Dany who rode to his right. Her pale skin glimmered against the hot glare of the sunlight, the pink tinges were back on her cheeks. Whatever sort of fear he saw on her face earlier, it was gone and replaced by some subtle anger. He had just kissed her earlier this morning, and gods...how she felt so wanton and soft against him...If she were not this indignant at the present, words will tumble out of his mouth without his control. But his queen is a difficult woman.

She is truly difficult, when she suddenly reined up, the city’s gates half a hundred meters from them. The rest of the entourage followed the halt, half of them confused. Dany removed one foot from the stirrup, and Jon held out his hand to steady her as she dismounted even though he knew that she was quite adept with horses. Part of him said that he was only taking any possible opportunities to touch her. He was glad that she took it, though.

She walked towards Karim, who was now sweating profusely, an angry shade of blush ran across his sculpted chest. Dany stood so close to him that any small movement would meet their lips together. Jon stared hard at them. She gave Krono a scornful look, who was tied to Ser Jorah’s horse, and she looked back again at Karim and gave him a smile that Jon had only the chance to see whenever the two of them were alone and... _what was she playing at?_

“I cannot let greedy and conceited men like you into my city.” another screech of a dragon came roaring from a near distance. Karim trembled. Dany raised her hand and let her fingertips touch the strands of the man’s hair.

“Dragons oft crave exotic flesh. Heated to perfection, sometimes the foreign ones are exquisite. Wouldn’t you agree, my lord?” she purred.

“I am true to my promises, my beauty. I promise you that I shall please you to -”

Jon saw Karim’s manhood stiffening. Dany stepped away, aware of his reactions. A disgusted look on her face. “Oh, you’re quite figurative, aren’t you? Is that your way of charming? I prefer to be straightforward.”

The captives were not taken into the city. They were left to be tied onto wooden poles to bathe under the sun, even Amit paz Toraq’s corpse was not spared. It was not even for at least half an hour after they have ridden back to the Pyramid when Jon heard the screeches of the dragons. He momentarily left his post and went outside to the nearest terrace to see. They were flying low outside the city’s gates, and their fire boosted from their mouths, the green one sunk his head low and the wooden pole had also went between his teeth. 

The events of the day were reeling in his mind. He was relieved when the queen informed them in the entrance hall that they must discuss the pressing matters the next day, telling everyone to get some rest. He caught her give Ser Jorah a concerned look before walking away with her handmaids. That concerned Jon. No wonder she did not need a lot of effort but to stay away from him after their last, real conversation. That stolen kiss that he had given her felt so exquisite and hurt so good, now that he had finally met Jorah Mormont. Jon almost wished that he could have died in the beach. She is the salt in his wound.

It did not help when she walked in to the council chambers the next morning, and the councilors and commanders rose to their seats to greet their queen. She wore a pristine white gown today. It was one of those dresses of hers that revealed so much skin that Jon found achingly distracting. Her hair has less braids, with only two simple knots of strands braided together at the back of her head. Anyone who hasn’t met her would be mistaken to think that they were standing before an ethereal goddess.

“Shall we begin?” she said as a greeting.

Jon sat across to her, and he was quick to notice that Jorah chose the seat to her left. Dany’s eyes fell on the maps and clay figurines that still littered on the table. Then she looked around them. Jon’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table when she smiled feebly at Jorah.

“I trust you are now well rested, ser.” she told him.

The knight bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“We must hear your accounts on how you were cured and happened to come across the Tolosis.” Dany said.

“I went to Oldtown for the cure. The maesters there were hesitant and repulsed with my worsening condition. I was cured by a novice, in the middle of the night. He was frightened to be discovered by the elder maesters, and when they checked upon me again they thought it was a miracle.”

“What is the name of this novice?” inquired Dany.

“He did not identify himself, Your Grace.”

Jon absentmindedly grabbed a clay dragon from the table and stared at it. He cannot watch the exchange of their expressions, but he listened still.

Jorah continued, “I was sailing through the Gulf of Grief back to Meereen when the brothers found me. The ship docked to replenish their provisions. I went down to the market myself, that’s where I was knocked out by someone. When I woke up, I was in a dungeon. Apparently, they know me as one of your advisors.”

“That’s an intriguing adventure.” chimed Tyrion Lannister, who held up his cup of wine to Jorah’s direction and drank deeply. The knight gave him a stern look.

“What did they tell you?” Dany urged.

“They plan to use me as a hostage, Your Grace. To force you into a marriage with them.”

Dany sneered. “It is past done now.”

“Now you have an addition of five thousand men and five hundred ships. How gracious is that?” said Tyrion.

“I was planning of ways to burn them all until our dear captain interrupted.”

Jon looked up at her. She was looking at him expectantly. He turned to Jorah and gave him a grievous look. _I have no right to feel scornful._ “Forgive me, ser. That fight - I did not know they would choose you.” Jon said.

“It’s not your fault, captain. We would still be in the brink of war or mayhaps, cleaning the outskirts of the city if not for your clever challenge.” said Varys, followed by a giggle. 

“That combat was a very close compromise, my lord. The dragons...I took another risk of it when they were distracted.” said Jon, annoyed by his giggle.

“Did you know that I took Astapor by treachery, Jon Snow?” said Dany. She looked like the queen this time. “That exhibition you did there was a game well played, captain. Initially, the brothers laid out the first fraud by presenting Ser Jorah as their champion. It was a fair response that you gave them, with a tiny help from my dragons. They thought they chose an amusing piece to play, but it was their own deaths.”

She smiled. “Forgive me, you have not met formally. Only in combat,” said Dany. “Ser Jorah, this is Jon Snow. The captain of my royal household guard.” she paused for a moment. “He...came to Meereen by accident in the sea. Soon after he asked to be...in my service.”

“You fight well, captain.” said Jorah genuinely.

“You are too kind, ser. I am honored to fight a knight like you.”

Jorah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You mentioned to me yesterday that you are a _northern lad?_ Your name, it says.”

Jon nodded. “Aye, my lord. I’m the bastard son of Harrion Karstark. I was raised in Karhold, though my identity was kept secret.”

“Your looks might pass to be a Stark of Winterfell.” replied Jorah.

Jon gave him a quizzical look. “House Karstark is descended from the Starks after all.” he did not like talking about blood, families, or houses.

“Those friendly inquiries might be discussed for some time, my lords.” said Dany a little impatiently.

She gave Jon a look that he cannot read. He can’t look away. 

“Jon Snow, I am naming you into my small council as my advisor and general. Here in witness of my councillors.”

“Isn’t Ser Jorah already named general?” asked Tyrion.

An awkward silence followed. “The more commanders we have, the better. You’ve seen how Jon Snow fought, my Lord Hand.”

The rest of the meeting proceeded by a quick blur. At the mention of the fleet giving access for the queen to march west, she dismissed it quickly and called the session to end. The council rose one by one to depart, Jon being the first one to reach the steps.

“Stay, Jon Snow.” she commanded.

He turned back to her, bowed his head, and watched from the corner of his eye as the rest of the council rose from the table and left the room. When they were alone, Jon finally looked at her. She rose from her seat and strode to where he stood. She raised her hand and he caught her wrist this time. She was fuming with rage.

“You’ve just raised me to be one of your generals, is that how you express your anger?” he snapped, oblivious to where that came from. He released her arm, realizing that he must have hurt her.

“How dare you defy your queen?” she scoffed. “Formulating a plan without consulting me nor any of the members of my council, putting half of your body under your grave. How could you?”

“You’ve just earned yourself an army and a fleet of five hundred ships.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of you.” she snapped back sarcastically. “I should be kissing your feet to express my great gratitude.”

He found himself looking at her lips that were currently curled to a snarl. “It is past done, like you said. How could you be still upset? I defied you, aye. Now look what happened, your forces grew stronger than ever. You…” he paused, trying to find the _right_ words. “Ser Jorah Mormont is back by your side. How the fuck are you still upset?”

“I feared for you, Jon!” her voice cracked at the mention of his name. “That Amit, I thought you were going to fight him. If you at least let me choose my champion, it wouldn’t be you...I cannot choose you. And then they took Jorah out. I saw death smiling at me yesterday. I just can’t lose him again when he just came back, in a way I did not like.”

The beast within him woke, snarling. “You didn’t trust me to fight for you, then?”

“I didn’t say anything like that.” she said, aghast. He ignored her.

“It should be Jorah _consoling_ you, Your Grace. It has been sometime since you last had him in your arms, I presume.” every word was a stab in his chest.

She winced. “What are you talking about?”

“He is your most loyal advisor and friend, is he not? You are very close with each other, aren’t you? Then why are you talking to someone like me?”

Her face fell, the anger was suddenly gone. Jon swallowed, regretting the words he had just said. “He does love me. But I don’t love him the way he wants to.” she said quietly.

She looked at him as though she were pleading. Jon fought the urge to take her in his arms. “If you were the one who died yesterday...you would have _left_ me with bitterness between the two of us. I’ve been angry at you, Jon. And I’m tired of it. I don’t want to be angry at you.”

She took a step back and stared at a spot on the table. “Between you and Jorah, I didn’t know what to do, what to feel. I have all the military power to prevail a battle. But Jorah is my oldest friend and...and…”

When she looked up, her eyes were glassy. “You kissed me before we left for the beach. Was that a farewell? I could hate you for it.”

He has suffered long enough. _I am a fool._

Jon grabbed her by the face, the way he had yesterday. Her hands went straight to his chest, her delicate fingers grazing the bare skin there. He had finally taken a liking to the thin Essosi garb.

“Tell me, Jon. Everything you want to tell me. I don’t care if you’re a bastard or what other people might say. There is nothing wrong about it, as long as we’re not harming anyone.” she said, the desperation evident in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Dany. I’ve been a fool.” he said. A tear escaped in her eye and his thumb brushed it away. “I thought distancing myself from you will spare us the honor. I thought it was nothing to you after you sent me away, you were avoiding me. But it hurt you, and me as well. I’m so sorry, _my love_. I will say it a thousand times over so I could just have you in my arms again, to see you smile and hear you laugh. I robbed all of those away from you. From me, your happiness is the only thing that could make me the happiest man in the world. That’s what I want to tell you. That’s what I want for you.”

He pressed a chaste kiss on her lips before looking at her again, he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I love you, Dany. I would give you every damn fleet in this world if that’s what it takes to make you happy.”

“No fleet, no armies, no war. Not those. _I want you, Jon._ ”

Their lips brush, as if still on the brink of hesitation. He groaned and went for it. They kissed with all the passion and regrets between them, the anger and grudges pushed away as he pressed his body closer to her. He nudged her with his hips, and they walked backward for her to lean on the table without parting their lips. He kissed her as though she was ambrosia, the only life that he could ever cling onto. Damn everyone, s _he is his life_. 

He could feel her lips curling into a smile against his mouth, a small giggle that managed to escape from the back of her throat before he captured her mouth again, silencing her. Bloodlust was suddenly back through his veins. But not the lust for violence. He was hungry for her warmth and kisses. He craved to be embraced by her arms and enveloped with her cunt. Jon reached an arm behind her and  roughly shoved the contents of the table. Clay figures fell with a breaking sound, some maps were crumpled and torn, wine spilled. Dany gasped when he lifted her onto the table, and resumed kissing her.

Her fingers scratched the nape of his neck before tugging at the leather band on his hair, and pulled it free. _Gods, he missed her hands in his hair. He missed everything about her. It felt like a thousand years._ Hands shaking, he grabbed the hem of her dress near her chest and pulled, the sound of tearing fabric cracked in the air. He kissed her down on her neck, and took his time kissing, sucking, and biting. Dany pulled hard on his hair as he bit onto her flesh, the pain was queer to his senses, which only made the confines of his breeches unbearable. He worshipped her breasts senselessly. Desperately grinding his hips against her.

Jon went to his knees, and watched the pink hues spread on her cheeks and chest, her breasts wet and shiny with his own spit. This, he’s been dreaming about this. He had done this to her once before, but she didn’t allow for him to finish. She always liked finishing together.

He drew her skirts up. Teasing is rubbish. Daenerys deserves to be worshipped and loved. Jon’s tongue greedily slid against her slit, entering her and tasting her to the sweetest core that he could reach. He took her nub between his lips, sucking relentlessly until she was already screaming his name.

“Jon, wait...not yet. I want to finish with -”

“You will come for me.” he growled.

When she did though, he licked and drank her up to quench his long drought, the paradise falls alive inside him. She was limp and panting when he stood up and had to wrap her firmly in his embrace. He kissed her slowly then, and she moaned. Her fingers brushed against his beard coated with her own juices. The trek of her hands proceeded down to fumble shakily with the laces of his breeches. When his manhood spilled free, he groaned when she stroked him in such a fast rhythm.

Jon pushed her legs wider apart, and plunged himself into her in one swift thrust. She gasped at the sudden force. He began his slow pace at first. She dug her nails on his shoulders through the thin fabric of his tunic.

“This is where you belong, Jon. Inside me. Yes, yes, take me. Fuck me.” she purred in his ear.

At the surprise of her cussing, Jon complied to her wishes and fucked her. It sounded so good to hear her talk like that, and even more arousing that he could hear the slap of their flesh and the music of her urging him to be not gentle with her. The table scraped dangerously against the marble floor. Jon moved closer to her, slightly afraid that she would suddenly fall away from him. Only this maneuver was caused by his hard thrusts. She nibbled at his ear as he felt himself building.

“So good...I missed you.” she sighed.

Then he let go of himself inside her, only to be pumped by her own walls as well. He kissed her as he thrust to ease both of their pleasures. She was not fond of words in the midst of lovemaking, it was rare. Jon knew what she feels for him too, for she was better than him at speaking out her mind and heart through her body. She peppered his face and neck with kisses, hugged him closer to her. 

Recovering from their intense encounter, he lifted her from the table and sat on the nearest chair with her straddling his lap. His eyes fell on her torn dress, and gave her an apologetic look. She smiled.

“I have a hundred other dresses for you to rip.”

He shook his head playfully at her. “I don’t want to give your seamstresses too much work.”

“I doubt it, Jon Snow.”

As he stared into her soft violet eyes, Jon knew he had everything to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing that "Shall we begin?" line sent shivers down my spine...
> 
> Did you think I would let anyone die after that disastrous season finale? I know GoT nor ASOIAF don't work this way but we've had enough bullshit, better not have it in our fanfiction!!! I chose to not mention who cured Jorah from the greyscale. It was probably Sam or anyone else for all we know. 
> 
> Sadly, this story is nearing its end and I will really miss writing these characters. Thank you all for reading! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter took longer than usual to update! Well then, here's a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, and a little bit of smut.  
>  **...And also a little bit of character/s discussion at the end notes.**

**Daenerys**

Dany always found the outdoors very accommodating to her mood. She insisted that she break her fast with her council on the lower hills near the river and its neighboring trees. A tent was raised above their heads and the table of feast to block out the sun. The short grass tickled the sides of her feet, and the light breeze of the morning wind would sweep past her and made strands of her silvery gold hair dance softly around her bare skin. She had chosen to wear a purple gown so thin her skin underneath was seen through the fabric. Faint red marks inked her collarbone and neck, an obvious pattern that made her handmaid gasp in concern when Irri prepared her for the day.

“Those are love bites, sweetling. They will vanish soon.” _unless Jon plans to be less enthusiastic  during their encounters._

Irri might have had an idea of who left the marks, just as the rest of the household’s knowledge, but the handmaid knew better not to inquire. Dany had second thoughts when Irri offered to apply some powder to cover the marks, or perhaps just make up an excuse for it. Dany thought the former would be more convenient, despite finding Jon’s markings as proud as her dragons. None of her dresses would help to obscure them either, when she would rather parade these marks if not to preserve her regal dignity.

The long table before her was adorned by platters upon platters of dishes, to which she considered to be a small banquet. A couple loaves of bread, a wheel of white cheese, a basket of fruits, oaten porridge, bacon, boiled eggs, and sausages spiced with Dornish peppers that Dany found quite interesting to her tongue. From a near distance, some of her Dothraki roasted a whole goat in a pit, and they broke their fast around it with cheery noise. On their table though, where her usual small council sat and Jon Snow as an addition, the atmosphere became tense with surprise.

She watched as she drizzled some honey with a spoon onto her porridge, with a rather tranquil gaze. The sight was quite soothing compared to what her ears listened. An outburst coming mostly from Ser Jorah Mormont after she had just told her council that she will not march for Westeros.

“Your Grace,” he pleaded hoarsely, “This has been your journey since you had wed Khal Drogo. You have been through cities and villages, battles and blood, you have raised the armies you desire. You and your dragons, you are destined for the same goal.”

She looked into her bear’s wide, imploring eyes. “I thought so too, ser. I think I have already restored my House since the birth of my dragons.”

Varys tittered nervously. “Westeros is ruled by a tyrant, Your Grace. A tyrant sits on your ancestors’ throne.”

“House Targaryen lost the Iron Throne when Jaime Lannister put a sword to my father.”

“But Your Grace, you are -”

“- not my father, nor the previous kings, nor Aegon the Conqueror. We all came from the same line, but I am not them and they are not me. I am Daenerys Stormborn.” she finished.

“Then what do you plan to do?” asked Varys.

She stirred her porridge. “Why, rule, my lord. I stayed here in Meereen to learn how to be a queen, and I shall stay. I cannot abandon my people. You’ve seen what happened when I disappeared with Drogon from the Great Pit of Daznak. Enemies might come swarming here again to claim slaves for themselves to slide them back to chains if I leave. They called me _Mhysa_ for a reason.”

“How will you extend the purpose of your rule here?”

She smiled. “I intend to make their freedom fruitful. The freed scholars are to teach the unfortunate children and those who wish to learn how to read and write. A free mind knows and thinks, I believe. As for the city’s structures, scholar houses for children are to be built and I want every Harpy figure gone in public places, whether a statue or a tapestry. The nobles’ pyramids are to remain, of course. Those are their respective houses. I only find the Harpy quite offensive. ”

Another opportunity for men to be put onto productivity lingers on Dany’s mind. _The mention of it might further shock Jorah and Varys._ That could be for another day.

“And where are we to find coin for all of these, Your Grace?” urged Varys.

Tyrion Lannister, who was sitting next to the eunuch, reached in front of him for a crock of butter. Grey Worm handed it to him. “Thank you, commander.” he nodded.

He spoke as he spread butter on a heel of bread. “The Tolosi brothers sailed forth with generous treasures with them. I suggest they might be put to use.”

“Indeed, my Lord Hand. This is no hasty work, after all. Taxes and trades are still to be collected regularly. Wages that must be used for larger visions...take some time.” said Dany.

“How did you think of this, Your Grace? Why?” asked Jorah, sounding tired. She put her hand on top of this. 

“I cannot abandon my people.”

“Your people is in Westeros.”

“ _I am not their queen._ ”

Dany looked up to study the faces of her councillors and commanders. Jorah looked ten times older than before they left the Pyramid, Tyrion was surprisingly calm, Varys was worrisome, Missandei was soft, Grey Worm was still as a statue, and Jon gave her an uncertain look, but smiled all the same.

“Are you sure of this decision, Your Grace?” Tyrion was the one who asked the _question_.

The word seemed to fly from her lips. “Yes.”

“Why?” Jorah still urged.

She heaved a deep sigh. “My lord, Westeros has been in war since Robert the usurper died. I do not mean to intrude...hearing the tales from you and the travellers is one thing, I could only imagine them, yes. But to see it for myself, I have seen things as bad as the wars from the west. I was never part of any of them. I was born in Dragonstone, but I was just in my swaddling clothes at that time and...I have never truly laid my eyes on the place.”

She plucked out a grape from a bunch, and rolled it between her forefinger and thumb. “What I really want to tell you is...Westeros has never been my _home_.”

The table had grown strangely quiet and she took a sip from her cup of wine to distract herself. “I hope to not repeat myself again. I wish to stay in Meereen and rule here as the queen. Let the singers sing of how Daenerys Stormborn freed the Bay of Dragons.”

She looked around them once again. “If any of you oppose my decision you are free to leave my service without force. I will not stop you. I will bear no ill against you, I believe you have all done a great favor to my cause and I am grateful for both your presence and counsel.”

Silence. She popped the grape into her mouth and chewed, the juice running inside her mouth as sweet as her contentment. _Yes, I am contented_.

“Do you mean to free all slaves across the known world, Your Grace? Are you to conquer here?” asked Varys.

She eyed the eunuch skeptically. Freeing Slaver’s Bay itself had done a tremendous success but without the exchange of blood and disaster. It had put her in danger for a hundred times. _This would take years, probably the rest of my life,_ she thought reproachfully. 

“Essos is a very large mass of land for me to conquer. And if I do, it’s impossible to hold everything together. I do not wish to be in war eternally, my lord.”

“I agree that option must be out of our table, Lord Varys. We have peace to preserve here,” said Tyrion. “But how about the wheel, Your Grace?”

“The great slaver cities were put to dust and death, and have emerged with freedom,” she vividly remembered the smiles and laughter on the faces of her people, freedmen and nobles alike. There is still work to be done in Meereen alone. Many people to foster and rule over. “I believe there is time to make plans in the future.”

The rest of their breakfast went smoothly with more silent moments and occasional short, separated conversations. It must have been an awful and impulsive announcement, the silence itself was oddly uncomfortable to her. A private consultation beforehand must have been advisable, but she chose to keep it to herself before one of them could steer her mind again back into the old pathway, to the destiny she had always believed in. Just as expected, Jorah would retort, and she felt guilty for disappointing her bear.

_This is my destiny now._

No sooner than they had all finished their plates, bellies full of hot meal washed down with wine and ale, she stood up and dismissed the council to go on with their own plans. Except for her Hand.

“Walk with me, my lord.”

Though she was petite, Dany moderated her strides for Tyrion to keep up with her. The sun had risen and showered hues of gold over the city and its surrounding vast expanse of green hills and trees. Ahead, she could glimpse the river shimmering from the golden sunlight. The wind had picked up to barely a whisper. The smooth silks of her gown tickling her thighs at every step she took.

She glanced down at Tyrion and noticed that he had brought his cup of wine with him that was filled to the brim, the liquid splashing precariously around the cup’s lips.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

“What do I think about what, Your Grace?”

“I thought you are clever, my lord. Must I dismiss you and look for another Hand?”

The uneasiness tightening in Dany’s chest softened when he chuckled. “I must say I am surprised. The fire had gone out suddenly, with no strong wind nor coldness to warn us of the forthcoming. Or did the candle burn slowly to a pool of messy melted wax?”

It was slow, but the fire did not burn out. Her feelings and thoughts about it were an array of mess, but it was not candle wax. “My fire does not merely come from a taper, my lord. It’s burning burning brighter than ever, but it doesn’t light Westeros.”

“Not bright enough?”

“Not worthy enough to spend my fire on.”

 _Westeros has not seen dragons for over a century._ Certainly not sooner or ever, they may only hear tales. But Daenerys Stormborn and her dragons is not some kind of a tale you tell the children at night before they go to bed.

“Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Westeros was unified under his wings.”

“Not with mine. Westeros is a fragile glass that has already broken into dangerous shards, attempting to stab at one another,” they were walking towards the direction of the river, the ripples of the water now clearly visible, like dancing diamonds.

“If you see the Iron Throne, that crawls close to your description of Westeros.” he quipped.

“A broken glass?”

“An ugly chair of barbed and pointed swords, threatening to harm the person who sits on it. Might as well kill him.”

“They say Maegor the Cruel was killed by the throne itself. And my father took bloody injuries as well. It sounds like a jape or a folklore but...do you think the throne can judge someone if he’s unworthy to rule?”

Tyrion hummed. “Cersei dying from the sharp points of the throne sounds more like a jape to me, Your Grace. A pity I won’t see it for myself,” he took a long swig from his cup. “But no, I think not. Perhaps you must have a talent for sitting without moving. The royalty must be taught that, as well as the rest of the nobles.”

“Holding court is tedious and painful at the buttocks.”

Tyrion laughed. Dany’s court usually takes for half the day, starting from morning until late afternoon. Worse, even until evenfall. The petitioners flow like a continuous fountain. Sitting on her ebony bench for long hours and keeping a regal composure with it is quite hard.

“You have seen it first. I didn’t listen, but I’m listening now,” she said softly. “Why did you advise me of abandoning Westeros when you were already aware why I raised my armies?”

“Ah, like what you said earlier. It is not your home, but it was the first place you have graced into this world. In the ancient fortress of your ancestors. But you didn’t grow up there.”

Dany glimpsed at the back of her mind, a small house with a red door and a grove of lemon trees standing around it. An image that appeared in her dreams for thousands of times.

“Your whole life bloomed here in Essos, Daenerys.”

“It was not always blooming like spring.” she winced at the memories that all started from Viserys, the Dothraki Sea, and up to this point.

“Aye, Your Grace. I’m afraid we must suffer withering and autumn and winter sometimes. When it’s all over, we will always go back underneath the soil as a meek seed and grow back up. You were my soil, Daenerys.”

They had stopped a few feet away from the shoreline of the river. Tyrion sat down on the grass, and she looked down at him. Sitting down would ruin her dress.

He squinted his eyes as he stared across the glimmering river. “I thought you’d kill me when we met. For being a Lannister, the brother of the man who killed your father. For being a drunk. For being a dwarf. My father hates me for being a dwarf. My whole life _is_ a trial, and I thought you’d bring the justice that my father and sister desired ever since I came into this damned, cruel world.”

“I named you my Hand for a reason, Tyrion.”

He looked up and gave her a lopsided smile. “And I advised you not to march to Westeros for a reason. Forgive me for how discourteous this may sound Your Grace, but perhaps whores, wine, and books were the only merry things I found meaningful to live for. I was born with a golden spoon in my mouth, with the privilege of gold and a powerful name, To make it more amusing, the gods blessed me to be an ugly dwarf, the only and most noticeable asset of mine. With that single asset, my whole life is a disgrace. I do admit that I enjoyed my innate privileges, in a country full of evil schemes and blood and swords. That, I did not quite enjoy to live upon. I’m a lion of Casterly Rock, I have a role to play in the great game, I cannot avoid it. So do you, Daenerys. You are the last of your line. That must be a heavy burden to carry, with the fate of your House on your shoulders. It’s only up to you, and I’m glad you took the easier path.”

“What makes Westeros the difficulty?”

His smile grew more pleasantly. “The wheel you fondly speak of, Your Grace. Our great houses and our proud sigils. Men kill and die, women raped, children slaughtered, all because we play this game of thrones. But you Daenerys, no. Your wars are different, you have a moral purpose. An advocacy to abolish slavery. Dragons and magic reborn into the world all because of you. I hope you see the difference.”

_I do. That is why I am standing here now._

“That was quite flattering, my lord. I look forward to your counsel and comments.”

“I must be the one more grateful, Your Grace. Do correct me, I wonder if I’m the only person who swayed you.”

He looked back to the tent, and Dany turned, too. Missandei and Grey Worm stood beside the tent, talking. A conversation is also in between Jorah and Varys, who remained seated on the table. Jon though, he was a good distance away from the tent, sparring with a couple of her Dothraki bloodriders. She watched him closely, his movements sending tendrils across her flesh and warmth between her thighs. It was too obvious, Dany knew at once.

“Jon Snow truly is the brooding type, isn’t he? I pray he won’t cut me down for stealing you away from him for a short time.” Tyrion broke her out of her reverie of Jon.

 _Everyone knows._ She swallowed, her cheeks were hot. Everything about Jon made her feel warmer than she already is. “I’m the one who requested for you. You are my Hand.”

A few moments of silence stretched between them. Tyrion gazed out on the river and the horizon beyond. “You love him,” from the tone of his voice, it was not a question, not a theory, but a true statement. A fact. “You are a queen. A brave and gentle queen. Jon Snow might have seen through that.”

“Don’t you have anything to say about _us_? I came across another sellsword again and this time Jon is...Jon Snow is someone else different from Daario Naharis.”

“Is Jon Snow the reason for you to abandon Westeros?”

“No!” she said too quickly, aghast. 

“Forgive me if I misunderstood, Your Grace. It has been ages since the last time I fell in love. Lovers think similarly like madmen. Ah, some people, especially your enemies may call you mad for doing the things you have done with slavery, but you are not one. You just wanted to shape something unique and for the better of this world, so you break the tradition, you break the wheel _._ ”

Dany knew where this was going. “Be clear with me. Do you disapprove of Jon Snow? In terms of _everything._ ”

Tyrion grinned. “I think he’s a good man, and I’m afraid I cannot counsel your heart, Your Grace. A lovesick ruler is far from my wits.”

Above their heads, the distant familiar roar of a dragon broke the peaceful morning atmosphere. Viserion emerged from the clouds alone, and swooped down near the woods, the trees and leaves dancing from the force of his flight. He then gracefully flew back upwards, his golden scales glimmering against the sunlight. Dany looked up at him with admiration. As the cream-colored dragon prepared for descent, Dany nodded at Tyrion and walked towards the vast clearing where Viserion landed.

Viserion inched his snout towards her, closing his eyes. Dany reached out, and caressed his golden scales. The burning warmth of Viserion tickling her skin. He plumped down his head and body with a loud _thump_ , sending dust and dirt flying away.

“Careful now. You’ll get dirt on my pretty dress, you lazy child.” _and the most affectionate of my children._ How ironic it is to think that Viserion was the complete opposite of the man he was named after, Dany thought sadly. The dragon purred as her hand continued its trail of caresses, then his eyes suddenly snapped open and a low grumble erupted from him. 

Jon Snow was standing on a considerable distance from them. The point of his longsword on the grass, his hand resting on the pommel. He was looking cautiously back and forth from Viserion to Dany.

“He won’t hurt you. Come.” Dany said softly.

He sheathed his sword back to its scabbard on his sword belt, and walked slowly closer to them, his eyes trained on Viserion’s golden orbs. The dragon rested on the grass again, but kept his eyes open.

“This is the first time I’ve approached a dragon of yours.” Jon quipped.

“I was not expecting to introduce you to them this way. His brothers are away hunting or exploring, or maybe they have been fighting. One day you’ll meet them three altogether.”

“He’s beautiful.”

Beads of sweat trickled down on Jon’s temple and brows. His chest was heaving, still exuberant from the swordplay he had just finished. She quickly glimpsed on a spot of red above his breast, the tunic’s fabric torn.

“You’re hurt.”

He smiled sheepishly and shook his head. “A small cut is nothing when I disarmed the man of his _arakh_. They fight well, Your Grace.”

“I see you have been practicing with my bloodriders.”

“Men from Westeros tell it true. A man is a fool to face the Dothraki. I was a fool to accept to spar with them, though I at least have to try and prove myself not a craven.”

“Dothraki is another man, the dragon is another.”

She smirked when she saw his apple moved. “Go on, you might as well greet Viserion formally.”

Jon tentatively raised his hand, and Viserion inclined his head silently, a glimpse of his black teeth flashed. Jon rested his hand on top of his snout, and travelled it slowly across to one of Viserion’s gold horns. The dragon growled, and closed his eyes.

“You’re lulling my child to sleep.”

Jon gave the dragon another caress and stepped away, folding his hands in front of him. “I wanted to show you something.”

“What is it?” she tried to hide the high pitch of her voice.

“You know it already. If you would come with me.”

Dany sent someone to fetch their horses. She realized that Jon was taking her to the stream within the woods, but she did not mention it to not spoil his plans. Several guards approached them to volunteer as their escort, but she waved them away and she saw Jon’s face lit up. They rode silently to their quick trip. A pathway wide enough for two horses to ride abreast led their way. Briars and trees greeted them along the way, birds tweeting and rustling leaves accompanied the soft hooves of their mounts. When the stream that was directly connected to the river came into view, Dany spurred her mare forward to get there first. Jon went to tie their horses in a nearby tree, and while he has his back turned on her, she took the opportunity.

She stepped out of her sandals, stripped off her dress and caught it before it landed on the dirt. The riding breeches and smallclothes followed. Her nipples peaked at the rush of cold enveloping her nakedness, that only made her blood grow hotter.

“Would you mind placing my clothes on my saddle? This dress is too precious to me.”

She feigned an innocent smile at him when he turned and gawked at her. Her cunt grew slick with want as she watched his dark grey eyes studying her with lust, as though he was undressing her still. When he went to fetch her clothes, she turned away once he took them from her and dipped herself onto the stream. It was deep enough for her toes to lightly graze the stones and mud underneath. Dany prefers her baths scalding hot, but the coldness of the stream was comfortable to her liking.

“Can’t wait for the water? Haven’t you took a bath already?” Jon asked. Her eyes drifted down on the growing bulge beneath his breeches.

“I can’t wait for you to join me in the water.” she teased.

Dany bit her lower lip to keep herself from smirking as Jon removed every article of clothing from his body. His skin still glistened with sweat, and the new wound on his chest had stopped bleeding but was still an angry color of red. His body is lithe and lean, muscles perfectly ripped and toned. His hair was free from the usual leather band today, the pretty dark curls barely touching his shoulders. _He’s more beautiful than I am._

Once he had fully submerged himself into the water, Dany moved close to him and traced the surrounding skin of his wound with her fingertips. He held her by her waist in response.

“Is it safe to wash the wound this way?” she asked.

“Of course. It’s just a small one.”

“Don’t soak it deep, though.”

He kissed her slowly, and Dany can’t help but smile against his mouth. She ran her fingers through his curls when they broke apart.

“I’ve been dreaming to bathe here with you in this particular stream. The one you told me about.”

Her sensitive nub ached down below. “Do you dream about me a lot, Jon Snow?”

“Aye. There’s not a day that I don’t. The first time I met you, I thought I was really dead. I made myself believe that a goddess came to guide me to the after life.”

“Spare me your poetic teasing.”

“Maybe my _tongue_ can find other ways to please my queen. I’m not a bloody bard after all.”

Somehow along the wild splashes they created in the water, in ways that Dany failed to notice because they were kissing fiercely, she found herself lying atop his clothes and moaning under his kisses. 

“We could be seen,” she managed to say.

Jon released the breast he was sucking to speak. “Let them see, let them hear.”

 _Gods, I don’t care about it too._ The thought of someone catching them making love beside the stream intensified her need of him. He took her by his mouth first. The delicious lashes of his tongue were both agony and pleasure, as it was not enough. She came shuddering and moaning his name. He pulled her up for a kiss and tasted herself on his mouth, their hands lost at each other’s bodies. Desperate for him to fuck her senselessly and surrender all of her to all of him, Dany was slightly disappointed at his gentle request to straddle him so he would lay on the hard rough earth instead. She complied with a kiss and rode him hard and fast, still anxious and hoping for someone to discover their carnal ministrations.

Dany had lost herself in him discovering her both with his eyes and hands. He looked at her as though she was made of glass, but lustily claimed her with a feral look. _Possessive. Protective. Passionate._ He touched and grabbed, on her sides, arse, belly, back, and breasts. He pulled her down to him with a growl and kissed her until her lips ached to bruises. He wrapped his arms around her possessively and fucked her in a relentless rhythm.

Afterwards she collapsed on top of him. She listened to his heartbeat for a while, praying that they could stay like this until the end of time. The air mingled the scent of her own perfume and soap, dirt, streamwater, leaves, ale, sweat, and sex. She imagined that they will go home to a humble stonehouse with a red door, with no courts to hold and no wars to fight. _The wheel,_ Dany thought, grasping something in her mind and heart. _There’s another wheel._

“Is this how you found me on the shore that night?” he asked.

She hummed. “Not naked, though. You were sprawled helplessly on the sand, clad in armor and every Westerosi layer.”

“Almost close like this one.”

“I’m on top of you now.” she giggled.

“Why did you save me?”

She didn’t answer right away. Daenerys Targaryen is outside of her court, naked from her rich silk gowns, intricate braids, and jewelry. Dany can’t provide a persuasive answer. _Why would Jon need persuading?_ She raised herself on one elbow to look at him. His brows were creased in a worried line.

“I was alone when I found you.”

“You arranged everything yourself, my love,” a shiver ran down her spine at the way he addressed her. He ran his hand through her hair. “And you pretended to be a commoner, hiding your true identity. You could have commanded anyone to take care of me. I…” he looked away. “I’m sorry, Dany. I’m just wondering. But why?”

“I don’t know,” that was the only answer for her to say if she wanted to be honest. “...I’ve already liked your company back then. It would have displeased me if someone else found you.”

He kissed her lips. “I’m not of noble birth. A bastard, and a sole sellsword -”

She placed a finger on his lips. _I will not be angry with this infuriating man right now._ “You’re not a sell sword anymore, Jon Snow. You’re one of my commanders, a member of my council. You will help me rule the lands I hold through your counsel and you will fight for me if war comes to threaten my royal seat. I hardly need to secure an alliance through marriage anymore when I already have dragons and armies behind me. You are my commander, my lover, my man, _you’re mine._ I am your queen and lover, Jon Snow. And you will heed everything I say and obey my commands. I command you to stop berating yourself because you’re more than the stranded stranger I found on the shoreline. I command you to keep your mouth shut and make it useful by kissing every inch of my body and make me come, or telling me that you love me because my heart skips and my stomach flutters everytime you tell me that.”

Dany realized that she was already straddling his lap when she finished. She felt him grow hard again against her thigh. He sat up and wrapped her in his embrace.

“Don’t leave me, Jon. Stay with me.” she said softly. A hint of tremor in her voice.

“I’m yours, Dany. Always.” he kissed her forehead.

Jon Snow is another wheel. It makes no matter of how they were both born, how they grew up to be until they met. _Our great houses and our proud sigils._ Tyrion echoed. Love does not boast pride and does not have to bear a sigil to represent how genuine it is.

“I love you.” she finally told him.

Jon Snow’s brooding long face broke out in a bright smile. “I love you too, Dany. Always.”

His smile still shone bright in her memory that night as she soaked in her evening bath. Her handmaids bustled around her. Missandei tended to scrub her back, and Irri and Jhiqui did her front. Irri rubbed her gently with a washcloth, starting from her neck and down her breasts. Dany closed her eyes as Jhiqui started to massage her legs that were slightly sore from the morning’s ride.

“Khaleesi?” 

She hummed to tell Irri that she was listening.

“Are you feeling well lately?”  

Dany’s eyes snapped open. She frowned at the handmaid’s queer, sudden question. “Yes, my sweet. Is something wrong? What is it?”

“Nothing khaleesi...my task is to take care of you,”

“And mine as well,” she grasped Irri’s wrist affectionately. “Is something wrong?” she repeated.

“None, khaleesi. I’m sorry if I drew you to concern.” 

Irri rubbed the washcloth at the valley of her breasts, then around her belly, then at the navel. Behind her, Missandei put essential oils on her hair and massaged her scalp. Dany swore she fell to a nap. The next time she opened her eyes, she was being helped out of the tub and wrapped in a robe. Back at her sleeping quarters, Dany sat on the edge of the bed as Missandei brushed her long silver hair until it was dry and shining smoothly.

Her Dothraki handmaids went to sleep on their own pallets, and Missandei crawled in beside her. Dany listened to the soft breathing of the women. Sleep did not grace Dany soon, however. She found herself donning her thin nightgown and draped the white lion pelt that Khal Drogo once hunted down for her across her shoulders, and wandered outside of her chambers. 

After descending a single level, she padded noiselessly on a corridor and found a familiar figure gazing out on one of the terraces. _Does he think of me that way still?_

“Ser Jorah?” she called out softly.

The knight turned at the sound of her voice. Half of his face was dark and the other half dimly lit by the torch on the sconce by the wall. She walked out of the terrace to join him.

“You should be asleep, khaleesi.” _and at other times he still thinks of me as a child._

“I’m trying to find a way to be tired, ser. Why are you out here?”

“Same as your reason.”

 _The same problem, but a different reason._ She rested one hand on the parapet, the other holding her thick pelt together. Dany watched the dark silhouettes of the hills against the night sky, the river’s water as dark as blood, but its diamonds danced under the moonlight.

“Years ago, you changed yours sails towards Astapor instead of going back to Pentos. As what Magister Illyrio had planned for you.” said Jorah.

“You can see it right now with your eyes what happened when I did that, Jorah. And that was your counsel, not my original decision.”

“Whose counsel was it of staying here in Meereen?”

“Mine,” she sighed. “I also made that decision years ago. Now I did it again.”

“And now you did it again.” he conceded.

 _He sounds tired._ Dany forced herself to look at him, to face her guilt. It only made her feel worse to see that he was looking helplessly at her.

“I’m sorry, Jorah,” she murmured, as if the wind would carry her secret away.

He gave her a small smile. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for, Your Grace. In fact I should be the one who must ask for your forgiveness. For a hundred times, if you would allow me. That vile thing I did to you was beyond treason -”

“I have already forgiven you,” she chimed in, “And it’s not about that. I’m sorry that I promised you that I would take you home, but now I have chosen to not do it.’

She almost winced in surprise when Jorah took both of her hands and kissed her knuckles. “You already are my home, Daenerys. The home that I had sworn to love and protect, whatever the cost.”

Dany gently pulled her hands free from his clutches. The night was suddenly warmer. “Perhaps we must retire to our own chambers, ser. We have a new day to face again tomorrow.”

He bowed. “Sleep well, Your Grace.”

As she stepped out of the terrace’s threshold, she looked back again. “Ser Jorah?”

Jorah Mormont stood valiantly, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword that hung around his hip. Always ready to listen and obey her command. It was not a command she intended to say.

“I’m glad that you’re finally back home, ser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,_  
>  _Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend_  
>  _More than cool reason ever comprehends.”_  
>  \- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream  
> : The quote where the title of this fic came from; with a few pieces from Tyrion and Dany’s conversation.
> 
> I wonder if you guys have seen that coming, though. Dany should have really stayed in Essos.
> 
> I want to hear your opinion on this one if you are interested but it doesn't have anything to do with the story, but ALMOST:
> 
> Margaery Tyrell almost made it into this story. I had to alter a lot of things in the outline when I was still writing the first few chapters, because I changed my mind. Daenerys is my number one favorite character in the series, and Margaery belongs somewhere in my top 5. I honestly didn't fantasize so much of these two queens meeting each other, but just imagine the tension if they did. I tried squeezing Margaery into this without putting them separately in opposing sides. But it was really difficult to picture out. Initially, I already have it mapped out that Dany will stay in Meereen, but how could she forge a friendship with House Tyrell when Highgarden is also in danger? Margaery may have went to her to ask for help, but that means there's another contender for the Iron Throne because Margaery also wants to be _THE QUEEN_. So why would Margaery ally with Dany in the first place? Someone more powerful who can easily replace her as the queen? That is unless, if Margaery wants to stay alive. But I don't see her giving up her position to put Dany on the throne. Maybe Olenna Tyrell allied with Dany in S7 for vengeance, and she has nothing to lose anymore. But if Margaery was still alive and Dany arrived to claim the throne, I don't think the Queen of Thorns would let anyone harm her granddaughter. 
> 
> Both women have superior personalities, only Margaery is cunning whereas Daenerys is bluntly persistent, driven by passion. You see, add Cersei Lannister and Sansa Stark to the table and you'll probably get a more intriguing storyline than the _War of the Five Kings _. (ideas, anyone? can someone please write that concept? hehe)__
> 
> What do you think?  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's our Disney ending part I

**Jon**

“Will the queen be hearing us today?” one of the petitioners who was dressed in a resplendent _tokar_ of four different colors muttered to his companion.

Jon Snow understood a few bits of the ugly tongue of Ghiscari. Though Meereen is an ancient city that was built by the Ghiscari empire, few of the Meereenese can speak Valyrian. As well as Jon, even though his High Valyrian is still rubbish. He has been taking daily Valyrian lessons with Daenerys in one of the vast terraces of the Great Pyramid, sometimes they are aided by Missandei, and sometimes they come across Ghiscari texts. Often times, Jon would doubt if they were really making progress, as he and the queen are distracted with one another and end up in his chambers just on the same floor.

Jon stood attentively at the foot of the throne room’s steps, studying the petitioners who came today to plead for the queen’s justice. They were a handful of them, enough to last for a couple of hours in court. 

A low series of chatter had begun amongst them, as the queen has not yet arrived. Daenerys Targaryen is not known for her punctuality, but she was more than delayed than her usual management of time this morning. Jon climbed down the last step and made way for the queen’s door at the back of the throne room. This chamber was so vast and the ceilings so high that the queen’s subjects can still be heard chattering in every corner, as though gentle murmuring bees.

Then they stopped.

Jon’s heart leapt at the sudden hush that fell over the room. He turned back and saw the queen entering, all eyes on her. He joined her small entourage behind her as they climbed the steps. Once she had sat herself on the simple ebony bench, Jon stood behind Tyrion Lannister, who was standing at the queen’s right side. 

Missandei’s sweet but firm voice rang out in the room, “ _All hail Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains._ ” Jon did not miss the alterations with her titles.

“Forgive me for the delay my lords and ladies. I had encountered some simple predicament when I was preparing for today’s court. But let us proceed.”

During the ninth petitioner, a farmer who presented a sack of wheat that he claims to be mortified by gnomes and flies, Dany requested one of her cupbearers to bring her a cup of hot sweetened water.

“Very hot,” she insisted firmly. 

When the court’s proceedings were over and the last of the petitioners was escorted out, Dany instinctively slid her arm into Jon’s when she rose, and they climbed down the stairs together.

“I felt sick when I woke up this morning,” she started. He felt himself drawing closer to her.

“Are you alright?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m fine now, but I pushed down a lightheart breakfast for precaution. Now I’m starving. No, wait - slow down, Jon. The floors are moving...I think I’m dizzy.”

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Are you sure you’re alright, my love? You must rest.”

“No, no. I want to eat first. I barely touched my breakfast in case I retched them all out again.” she said, slightly irritated.

She didn’t release him when they were finally out of the throne room. Her Dothraki handmaids were already outside, looking attentively at their mistress. Dany uttered a command in Dothraki, and they all bowed and scuttered off except for Missandei.

“Your Grace, some soup might be lighter first.”

“I’ve had plain porridge this morning, Missandei. Fruits would be harmless, I want something sweet.”

Dany was delayed again the next morning, dismissing the court to be held in early afternoon instead. The day after that, Tyrion was the one who climbed the throne’s steps. The queen was nowhere to be found. That put a perplexed look on this day’s petitioners, though they were few of them, they looked as though they represented the whole of Meereen’s disappointment at the absence of their queen.

“Where is she?” Jon asked, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice.

Tyrion sighed and looked at him apologetically. “She is feeling unwell this morning, commander. About her stomach again, her handmaids say. There is -”

“Give me the permission to leave at once, my lord. I must see the queen.”

“Yes. Yes. Go on.”

Instead of going straight to the royal chambers, Jon went down to the kitchens first and had a struggle communicating with the cooks who spoke little of the bastard High Valyrian. He found that the queen’s breakfast is just under preparation, and he stayed in the kitchens watching the cooks with a wary eye until it was done. One of the cupbearers approached trembling when Jon commanded him to taste the food first. Jon tried to give him a persuasive smile. He brought the tray himself and went to the queen’s chambers.

Jon’s blood rushed at the thought of someone from the Tolosi company who had just recently swore their swords to Daenerys slipped into her personal services to poison her. _Or someone who had been with her for some time_. He formulated commands to investigate the Great Pyramid from the dark dungeons to the topmost chamber, Dany’s own quarters, which he would investigate himself.

_One of the most important chambers in the Great Pyramid that he would visit for the first time._

Four Unsullied guards stood unmoving at their posts, their eyes staring blankly ahead behind their helms. Dany’s chambers was a rather exhausting trek, an endless flight of stairs must be taken to get there. Another smaller marbled staircase led to the doors, one pair of guards flanked the foot of the steps and the other pair stood at both sides of the doors. Jon climbed, wincing at the sound of his boots made against the marble. _Making noise around the Unsullied sounds like a terrible sin,_ he thought, uncomfortable at their stony presence.

The guard at his right gave him a brief look, knocked on the door gently with the butt of his spear and went inside. When he came out again, he opened the door widely, offering Jon entrance.

The antechamber was a vast but short corridor engulfed in golden sunlight, at its end on the right side is a doorless entrance of the main chamber. The royal quarters was enormous, the right side were doors leading to the garden terrace where small trees were planted and included a small pool at its center. Tapestries hung on the other side of the room, depicting dragons and griffins, wanton images of men and women alike. Two more doors were found at the back of the room, both closed to Jon’s inquiries to discover. _Perhaps more of women’s extracurriculars._ Daenerys seemed to be one, highborn and queen as she is.

Beside the doors is the enormous bed, placed on a rich purple Myrish carpet. It was however, still unmade and empty. The pillows plump on its head and silks scattered around it. _The room is empty itself._

“Dany?” he called out.

“Out here!” chimed the familiar voice coming from the terrace.

Jon almost dropped the tray when he saw the group of Dothraki women huddled close together under a pear tree, talking in hushed voices. The silver crown of Dany’s head was unmistakable among them, and Missandei was just standing behind. When Dany looked up and saw him, her face lit up and the women stood from the stone bench politely around her, giving Jon a series of bows. One was an elder who had a wise and kind face, the other two Jon recognized as Dany’s own handmaids, who hid behind their hands and giggled.

Dany eyed the tray in his hands. “You’ve brought my breakfast? How sweet of you.”

“I thought of escorting your cupbearers up here, but realized it would be safer if I bring it to you myself.”

“ _Safer?_ ” her brows arched incredulously.

“If Your Grace would permit me to speak to you in privy. Do I intrude?” Jon gulped, thinking hard if he should be formal or elsewise.

The Dothraki left first, then Missandei bent down and held Dany’s hand as the queen whispered a hushed command to her Naathi scribe, then they were alone. Dany tapped the space beside her and Jon strode towards her and sat, placing the tray between them.

“Tyrion said you are sick. Are you really alright? Shall I ride to the city and find a maester? Just to be sure?” he started hastily.

Dany shook her head and gave him a small smile. “It’s normal sick. I woke up nauseated and dizzy, I retched a little. Perhaps I grow tired and weary after holding court and council meetings, I admit that I sleep restlessly. But I’m absolutely fine, my love. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Dany, this has been going for three days.”

“Yes, I know. And you must calm down. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong to fret. You don’t have to interrogate every servant working in the kitchens. Although I like you delivering my meals,” she smiled, the smile that could raise armies from all directions just to court her. That one smile she reserves for him. “Eat with me, your queen commands it.”

Jon took a biscuit from one of the plates and took a bite.

“Not poisoned, see? You brought it yourself, I trust you with my life,” she took a bite from a slice of apple and narrowed her eyes at the tray. “The cooks didn’t grill some Dornish sausages?”

“Those sausages are extremely tangy to the tongue. It might upset your stomach further.”

“But I like them!” she retorted.

Jon dropped the biscuit back on the plate at her sudden outburst. She was glaring at him.

“You are not well and I will take care of you, one of them is me checking every meal that you eat seeing as you’ve been suffering from some kind of morning constipation or whatever that is. Your handmaids are well aware of your condition, I will fetch a maester from Oldtown or if I come across one in the city.”

“ _I’m fine._ ” she answered stubbornly.

Dany is so difficult to read. A book that has a striking title and an interesting cover that refuses to be opened. The pages bite when one forces to open her. Jon closed his hands into fists. Love and understanding were one thing in harmony, but keeping secrets from anyone is some free will...one that he wishes to avoid with women. _With Dany._ The only woman he thinks about.

He thought she was about to storm back to her chambers when she abruptly rose from her seat but his heart did cartwheels when she sat herself on his lap and resumed her meal.

“Has any of your healers from your infirmary came to check on you?” he asked, nuzzling his nose in her hair. Spring, _my spring._

“Yes. I’m not lying, Jon. I am fine, this will pass soon.”

 _She denies too much,_ Jon thought. They ate in silence for a few moments. Jon Snow tried to study her behind the thin strands of hair obscuring her face, as she kept her attention most of the time on the tray of food. She ran her fingertips at the nape of her neck. She offered him her other set of fingers to her that were dripping with juices from the peach she ate, and he sucked them hungrily. A wild sensation stirred within him.

“Come back here in my chambers tonight, Jon.”

He tried to hide is grin, although she was not looking at him. “And why is that? Do you have a task set for me, my queen?”

She looked at him innocently. “To sleep, commander. I want to sleep with my head on your chest and I want you to sleep with the flowery scent of my hair still lingering in your nose. You like it, don’t you?”

The tray beside them was forgotten as their lips met. Dany’s tongue burst in a mix of flavors, and that was the final dessert for himself. They kissed passionately, under the shade of a small tree on her terrace garden. Like a suitor stealing a sweet kiss from his lady’s balcony. Frustrated with the barriers between them, they became reckless and listened to their hearts at the end, no matter the judgment that could possibly come. His hands went to fumble at the laces behind her dress when she caught him without breaking the kiss, and brought them to cup her breasts through the fabric instead.

Dany moaned against his mouth. One of his hands tugged at one of the tiny bells on her hair, and that was when she pulled away. He groaned.

“Gods, I’m still famished. Help me finish this.” she said casually. Her cheeks were blushed, lips swelling from the intensity of their kiss. She was perfectly calm and reserved.

“Fetch the books beside my bed after breakfast. I had them specially picked from the square’s library a fortnight past.”

“Books?”

“For your Valyrian lessons. Read five paragraphs today and we’ll be early for the council meeting.”

“That’s bloody a lot.” he complained.

She gave him a sharp look. “Three, then. I’ve finished two of them last night, one is an old Valyrian children’s tale. Perhaps you can summarize it to me within the week without using the book as a reference.”

“How long can children’s tales take? _In Valyrian?_ ”

She rubbed her nose against his. “We wouldn’t want to keep the rest of my council waiting and wondering. Don’t we, Jon Snow?”

Jon Snow was watching green boys in the main practice yard when a servant went to him during midday to tell him that the queen requested to sup with him this evening. That evening came a storm raging outside, which rattled his mind of meeting Daenerys for supper. _As though we haven’t spent so much intimate time together before._ It took him a dozen tunics where half of them were the same color to fit. In the end he had donned a grey one, a satin jerkin, and a cloak to fight off the strange cold tonight. He buckled and unbuckled his swordbelt thrice, until finally deciding that he is the first line of Dany’s protection, and buckled it back tightly around his hip.

His current bedchamber was only two levels beneath Dany’s, and soon enough he was walking the antechamber again. This time though, it was bathed in flickering torchlights. Jon reached for the silver brooch that fastened his cloak, toying it with his fingers repeatedly. He found Dany sitting on the table, pouring wine. Beneath the thick white lion pelt that was draped across her shoulders was a gown that shimmers like sapphire when it hits the light. The rest of the room was void of handmaids and servants, as he had been expecting. Jon swallowed. The setup was so queer, so informal, so _domestic_.

When Dany saw him, she rose from her seat and ran to him like a little girl. He caught her in his arms as they kissed.

“Shall we eat? I hope I did not make you wait.”

Dany refused wine after Jon had finished his first cup, noticing water in her cup. Over plates of roasted duck, boiled capers in almond milk, and slices of figs, Dany told him about her and Viserys’ escapades in the Free Cities after they left Braavos. Jon asked her about Ser Willem Darry. He moved his chair closer to her and drew circles at the back of her hand with his thumb as she recalled the scraps from her childhood. 

Daenerys was solemn, violet eyes sparkling with innocence. In a matter of twists and turns in their conversation she looked like a little girl with dreams. Afterwards Jon told her about the tales he heard when he was a child, the ones that Dany hadn’t known. He told her how the first time he had earned his first battle scar, the War of the Five Kings, his favorite northern meal, he even tried to sing her a couple of Westerosi songs that made her laugh so loud she spilled her soup over the table.

A couple of servants went to clean up their supper. They were alone again. The rain spattered angrily on the pyramid’s stone and marble, thunder clapped, and lightning crossed the dark sky. It was colder than ever.

Jon Snow unbuckled his swordbelt and hung it on a peg alongside with his cloak. He watched Dany’s back as she stood a good few feet away from the terrace, gazing on the storm outside. She was petite and slim, but her posture said something bigger about her.

“You were born on a night like this,” said Jon.

She turned and walked towards him until they were almost touching. She was holding her pelt tightly around her. “You came to me on a night like this.”

_The queen has a gifted talent in flirting._

Jon took her face in his hands. “Do you mean to kill me with yours sweet words and seductive eyes?”

“More than that, Jon Snow.”

He heard her lion pelt fall heavily on the floor as they kissed. His hands went on their practiced movements to remove her gown and smallclothes without removing his mouth on hers. With a harsh bite that she nailed on his lower lip, he got shocked by the exquisite pain and was too dazed with the wine and too mesmerized by her that he failed to produce an appropriate response when Dany fell on her knees before him.

Small but quick hands fumbled at the laces of his breeches and his cock was out in the cold air for a heartbeat until Dany’s hot mouth enveloped him. The tip of her tongue kissed his own tip, and swirled around it teasingly. One hand reached to massage his sacs and the other stroked the length that she could not pleasure with her mouth. All drops of blood seemed to leave every corner of his body to rush at his hardened cock. When Jon looked down, he finally released the noise imprisoned at the back of his throat. Dany’s cheeks were flushed, eyes looking back at him full of love and desire. She took him with her mouth at a teasing pattern, until he lost control at the sight of Daenerys Targaryen kneeling on her discarded clothes sucking his cock. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and thrust, fucking her face until spittle at the corner of her lips.

Jon then hesitantly freed himself from the torturing confines of her mouth. He pulled Dany to her feet, letting her wrap her legs around his waist and kissed her hard until they found the solace of her bed. Another angry thunder clapped outside, and Dany winced violently at the shock of it, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“I’ve got you. Always.” he whispered in her ear.

They both helped each other to undress him to his nakedness with shaking hands. He reached down between her legs and his fingers were greeted with hot, slick fluids. He inserted a finger, two, then she screamed his name when a third finger joined the course. His mouth twisted to a smile against the crook of her neck. To his surprise, Daenerys pushed him aggressively on his chest, forcing him to slip his fingers out of her. She rolled onto her stomach, bent down on all fours, eagerly offering herself to him.

“Slowly, my love.” she murmured into the pillow.

“Is this alright for you?” he asked anxiously.

“Gods, yes. _Please._ ”

Jon bent down to plant soft kisses on her back. She was so smooth and supple, his kisses gentler than the last, afraid that he would break her in a heartbeat. They moaned in unison as he easily slid inside her. He took the first few thrusts slow.

“Harder,” she demanded.

He dug his hands on her hips as he pounded into her. Though the enormous bed was made of rich heavy wood, Jon felt its weight shift against the floor with his persistent thrusts. When he reached one hand to touch Dany’s sensitive bundle of nerves, she came in a few seconds and clenched around him, claiming all of him. He pulled out just in time to give himself a couple more strokes and spilled his seed on her arse and back. Dany collapsed on the bed, her heavy breathing still audible despite the storm outside.

Jon reached for the washbasin beside her bed and ran the washcloth against her skin gently. He stopped at the cheeks of her arse. He smiled proudly at the trickles of his seed dribbling down her skin.

“A rough and tender lover. I like that.” the pillow muffled her voice.

“Did I hurt you?”

Dany sat up and raised to coverlets to her small breasts. She smiled. “You could never hurt me, Jon. I’m just not familiar with that position...but you can always have me however you want.”

She moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “How curious of you to not finish inside me.”

“I wanted to admire my handiwork on your gorgeous skin.” he was about to say more as he ran a calloused hand along the inside of her thigh, when she took that hand and placed it on her belly.

“You will admire more than you could ever wonder.”

Somehow, Dany’s voice amplified louder than the storm outside. _Stormborn._ Jon thought. Then his thoughts stopped there, his mind went blank, he found himself to his knees before her, his hand still resting on her belly.

The only light that lit the cavernous chamber was the single taper beside the bed. It was dim, but enough to wash some warmth over Daenerys Targaryen’s beautiful face. Her violet eyes were so dark in this state they looked almost the dark blue of dusk, but they were as endearing as ever. And behind those tiny pools he saw love, happiness, and nervousness. _She looked like a dainty highborn lady who was anticipating her knight in shining armor._

“I am with child, Jon.” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You are with a child,” he was not thinking straight. “Is it mine?” he asked dubiously.

She slapped him across his cheek, but it was lighter compared to the previous ones. She was angry now, however.

“It’s yours, you fool! Our child!” she almost shouted. “Oh, I am quite sure. I cannot be mistaken. The witch who murdered my son and husband, she must have put more sorceries than I initially counted. My moon’s blood have been confusing since then. Sometimes it went by according to the moon’s natural pattern, sometimes in two or three moons. Once I had it after half a year since the last. Oh, why am I telling you this? Do men even understand the whole point of a moon’s blood?”

Dany moved further to the pillows and covered herself with a blanket. “The last time I had it, we’ve only just met. And well...Daario hasn’t touched me for some long days. Don’t give me that look! My despise for you grows bolder everytime you brood when you’re jealous.”

“Dany...” he finally found his voice.

He scooped closer to her in the bed. She did not move any closer or away from him, just still. He tentatively reached out, when she didn’t flinch, he took both of her hands. 

She continued, “I never thought...the _maegi._ I believed her every single day. The dragons were my only connection to the life in the world. But now I don’t understand. I knew it when the same signs came when I was carrying Rhaego. Yet I was confused and happy when my Dothraki midwives and healers confirmed to me that I was indeed with child. I am happy. _So_ happy, Jon. Yet I’m still confused.”

“It’s not the witch, my love. It was you, it has always been you who made this possible.”

“Us.” she said.

 _I’m having a child with the woman I love. The queen that I serve._ Did he really want this? Jon shunned away from the needs his body demanded of him, being a bastard was enough to be damned for life. One of that cautions is accidentally siring a bastard that he may never have known, just like the anonymous identity of his mother. If he would have a child, Jon wished that he would be of honored birth no matter how lowborn. He wouldn’t want his child to be raised up like him. A bastard born of lust and lies. And who would want to spend their life loving a bastard?

 _Daenerys Targaryen,_ a persistent voice inside him answered.

Dany was not so sudden. The only accident that had conjured out in this whole affair was the storm that washed him to the shores of Meereen. And now he is sharing the queen’s bed. A love that he thought to be forbidden and humiliating, but now just feels so extraordinary. Something that he cannot live without. 

“I had to tell you at once,” Dany went on, “You have the right to know. I cannot hide it from you, and we cannot hide it from everyone else forever. Aren’t you going to say anything else? Jon?”

“I love you,” he said and he looked down at their joined hands, moving them to her still flat belly. “And I already love the child you bear more than anything in this world. Ours, Dany.”

The tears came trickling down his cheeks when he was trying so hard to be strong and bold at the moment. But what was the point of it if Daenerys was his weakness? 

“I would want to watch my son or daughter grow. With you by my side. This child of ours was conceived out of the marriage bed -”

Fear flashed across her face. “I know that people will talk -”

“Dany, my love, please. I don’t want to marry you because we have made a child out of fornication. Gods, it’s part of that, but I love you. We didn’t happen on an accidental drunken night. I want to marry you because I can’t imagine a world without you in it. It took us some time to realize things, I even risked everything by attempting to choose honor and duty. But that only hurt the both of us, and I had the time to finally get out of my foolishness. I really want you, Daenerys. Only you.”

“I would willingly give up my crown for you.”

“You can’t.”

“Just the same, Jon. You can still be my consort.”

“Do you know how much risk we are to proclaim to the public eye?”

“Yes, of course.”

That made both of them laugh, making the strain between them lighter. Dany sniffed. “My first people were the freedmen. The noble Meereenese though, sometimes I still feel like I’m still attempting to win them to my rule and cause by offering them the lion’s share of a feast. These nobles run trades and are influential to cities across Essos and even in Westeros. Balancing all social classes is significant, they complement each other. I do not mean to wound you Jon, I believe these nobles would take most of the part of this talk.”

He smiled at her. “You have exceeded their expectations. There’s nothing else for you to prove.”

“You have,” when she shifted, the blanket fell to expose her breasts. “I see it in you. I lack something that you had. Growing an exile running from one city to another, I didn’t receive any formal education from a maester except for my brother’s aid of tales and books that I had briefly read. You are always hesitating, because your life revolves around that bastard status. You are educated like a highborn. You behave nobly, and you honor chivalry even though you have already spent a few years time as a sellsword. You soften your heart it needs to, you get me all the time even when you’re stubborn and infuriating. What really matters is how a person grows out to be, not his perfumed name or colorful sigil. And our child Jon, I want him to become a better person than you and I.”

Jon Snow tucked a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear before touching his forehead against hers. “We have to be wise of this short period of time if we were to accomplish family and state matters simultaneously. You will not be alone, we’ll do this together.”

The night ended with Jon Snow hugging the queen close to him to calm her tears that were challenging the heavy rain outside. She was fragile in his arms, free of her regal silks and intimidating mask. So he held the _both_ of them together. This storm came and will pass by soon. The dawn will even be sooner than that, for some things are inevitable to just let it pass. When he was sure that she was finally in a deep sleep, he soon followed her in their dreams.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it...our Disney-like ending part II.
> 
> The end notes clarify some stuff from this chapter. Oh, and I wrote a letter for my dear readers. <3

**~~~~Daenerys**

The terrace pool’s water was cool during mid afternoon, and her warm body adjusted very well to its temperature for half an hour now. She had her eyes closed as she listened to Missandei read ledgers to her containing sums of taxes collected in and out of the city.

“Brothels grow abundant as ever,” she scrunched her nose, “Take note of increasing the exclusive brothels by two-thirds, and save it for the fund of building.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

The sound of the quill scratching against parchment whispered softly. Even the leaves above the small trees were whispering, so are the faint and distant noises across the city. Eight hundred feet above, Daenerys Targaryen was used to faint, echoing sounds. Perhaps her son could hear it too. _Or a daughter._ That made her smile, dreaming of a pretty small girl with dark curls as gorgeous as her father’s.

“How can I announce the truth to the rest of my council, Missandei?”

“Perhaps your betrothal will be wise to announce first, Your Grace.”

Dany laughed. “Lord Tyrion will make a sarcastic jape and drink afterwards, Varys will possibly inform his little birds, to which makes no matter to me since I am not open to suitors anyway,” and Jorah Mormont, Dany can already imagine the pain in his face. “Ser Jorah will advise me to wait a little longer for another marriage, I suppose.”

“If there is room for patience, would you want to wait?” the scribe inquired politely.

 _Can mortals control the time for carrying a child?_ Dany thought out loud, biting her lower lip to prevent a playful giggle. She thought of Jon Snow teaching her how to hone a sword, and she teaching him High Valyrian. She could feel his gentle and strong hands around her curves even when he’s not around, his shy smile, his stern, brooding face that softens when he sees her. 

“I’m marrying him because I love him, we’re building a family together now.” Dany mused, “We are in no sudden rush, but it is soon enough. I must help Jon into my new world, he’s my other half.”

Stretching out her body taut after her bath, Dany donned a light and cool burgundy dress fringed with scarlet Myrish laces sewn around the low cut in front of her chest. Beneath she wore her riding breeches, her favorite boots that were already worn out, and a black cloak. Two floors below, she suddenly walked a turn to the main hallway, leaving her confused escort of guards behind her, but they followed just the same.

Three knocks of her knuckles against the oak door, it opened to reveal a sweaty Jon Snow still clad in his armor.

“Do I disturb?” she asked.

“No, Your Grace. I just finished training new men into your army down the practice yard.”

Dany scanned his disheveled state quickly, and turned to her escort. “Wait for us in the stables. I’ll be completely safe with your commander.”

In a heartbeat after her guards nodded in obedience, Dany brushed her way past Jon into his chambers. He closed the door, took her hand, and kissed it. She kissed his lips in return.

“I apologize for my unpresentable appearance, Your Grace,” he failed to hide is grin.

“That’s why you’re taking a bath before we ride out. Where’s your tub? Have the servants filled it?”

Jon cleared his throat, Dany strode around the room towards the tub at the corner. It was full of lukewarm water, still untouched. 

“I er, I don’t have servants to help me with my bath. I can do just fine,” 

Dany unclasped her cloak and hung it on a peg. “Take off your clothes and get in the tub. I’ll wash you.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes, “Do you want me to be the one to undress you? I swear we won’t finish soon if I do.”

“Do you think you bathing me makes a difference?” he removed his armor anyway, then pulled his tunic over his head.

Dany turned her back on him to leave him to his undressing, busying herself to gather soap and washcloth. She heard soft splashing of water behind her, followed by a deep sigh. Jon Snow opened his eyes once her hand rested on his arm. Dany ran the cloth across his scarred chest, trying hard to memorize every inch of flaw on his skin. She could feel his eyes watching her intently that makes her heart scream in giddiness.

“We could wait for another moon’s turn to tell everybody,” said Jon. That made her smile meekly.

“I thought of keeping it to ourselves for a while. Perhaps we could wait. But that waiting will make my belly even less inconspicuous.” She reached out at the back of his head to loose his hair tie. “Do you really want this?”

He frowned. “What do you mean? You’re the woman I love, and you’re carrying my child. There’s no other option for me I could ever imagine but to spend the rest of my life with you and...with some other matters.”

“I know you’re scared, my love. You’d be more of a fool that I know if you weren’t scared.” _and I’m also anxious,_ Dany thought ruefully. No one wants an ill repute upon their person, especially to a queen.

Dany took a bottle of oil and cream and squeezed the substance onto her palm, and began to wash his hair. Jon closed his eyes briefly for a moment as she massaged his scalp. _He looked like a lost boy. Why did I put him into this?_ She kissed his forehead, and he opened his eyes. A shade of grey so dark they look almost black.

“None of us would know if we don’t try, Dany. Building a life with you as my wife, I could easily imagine that and live it up to it. As your consort though, I would willingly accept that as a part of me if that’s the only way for me to be with you. Let me help you, teach _me,_ ” he sat up in the tub, “I’ve never dreamed of being in this position because of my birth...but if this is for your sake, our child, or even your people, we will do this together. Marry me, Dany. Marry me out of love.”

Dany smiled. “My love for you cannot be questioned, Jon. You want some help, then. I have thousands of freedmen from Yunkai who followed my path here, and they seem to be overflowing the colorful bricks of Meereen. Advise me, Jon Snow. What should I do with overpopulation without risking the lives of my people?”

He quirked his brow inquisitively. “Give the adults some work, perhaps expand Meereen by building commerce and establishments outside of its walls.”

Dany laughed, “You almost got it. There’s some similarity to what I’ve been planning, but that’s not it.”

“So you’re really planning on something?”

“Yes, but I have been keeping it to myself for some time now.”

She leaned in his ear to whisper something. He gasped, then cursed. Jon stared at her agape and eyes wide, the reaction that she had just expected.

“Not to wound you, but are you mad, my love?” he said, still stricken.

She shrugged, “We wouldn’t know if we take the risk.”

Dany didn’t know whether to be ashamed or laugh at her own notion. _Maybe I’m going mad._ Her ambition sounds maddening, but definitely not her. The events of enemies coming from all directions after she had smashed the slave trade w0uld be a good recall, but what sort of foolish enemies and mercenaries would dare intrude her platforms? 

Jon Snow was a brilliant distraction. There was scarcely a time that he left her side. He had taken to be the one to deliver their breakfast, and shared every meal with her. He listened intently in council meetings, offered hushed advice, the nearest person to her to tend to her whenever she felt like being sick. They spent their nights making love and talking until exhaustion fell over them. Between these sweet things, Jon reminded her how he fears and disagrees with her plan of _political_ expansion. 

When she had no court and council meetings to attend to, Dany would lounge outside her terrace with a stack of books written both in the Common Tongue or in ancient Valyrian runes. Jon would always fall asleep before her. He would approach her first to convince her to come to bed, once he had fallen asleep laying down on one of the terrace’s stone benches. Other times she gave in to his distractions and they end up making love. Dany would sooner find herself a book in her hands again to help her enhance her plans. She needed to talk about it to more people soon if she meant for things to happen on her way.

“I’m starting to get jealous of your books.” Jon mused, his voice heavy with sleep.

Dany settled next to him, her back facing his front. He spooned her, wrapping his arm protectively around her torso and his hand lacing with hers to rest on her belly.

“Do you want to get married in front of a weirwood tree?” she blurted, the tone of her voice was tentative. She rolled over to face him. “I’ve never been a pious person, my family follows the rituals of the Seven, but I would be glad to honor your old gods.”

He blinked. “I doubt there’s a weirwood tree here. Well, is there?”

“I can send someone to find a branch to plant here from Westeros, or perhaps few believe in the old gods here in Essos. That could be settled. A heart tree can reside here for you, Jon.”

“The old gods are more powerful in the cold.”

“As long as you feel their presence in your weirwood tree, there’s room for you to pray.”

He kissed her long on the mouth and gathered her in his arms. “If that’s what you want.”

“I also want to make the announcement to the others tomorrow. We could start with Tyrion.”

Jon’s arms stiffened tightly around her, his body grew rigid against hers. He sighed deeply. “Tyrion is a wise and kind man, he would take this lightly. Initially, I hope.” said Dany. She dreaded seeing and hearing their reactions. 

“Sleep now, love. You must rest.” was all Jon said.

It was quite difficult to end the council session with a light atmosphere and a good temper for the queen the following day. Lord Varys was going onto his regular reports.

“Riots in King’s Landing have been swarming in every corner. Seven buildings in Flea Bottom had been set on fire, a hundred murders done in a single night. Dorne seems to be preparing for a silent sedition among their lords.” the eunuch narrated.

Whatever was left of Tyrion Lannister’s nose scrunched in frustration. Dany had read the letter herself, the small scrap of paper still clutched in her hand. Varys was looking at her expectantly, eyes twinkling slyly. 

“What could be the fruitful purpose of us knowing this information?” Dany asked no one in particular, her brows arching.

“A diplomatic information, Your Grace,” suggested Tyrion, “a cautious knowledge in assumption that someone in Westeros might come looking for your help, or from one of your allies, or from anyone in the east.”

“What kind of _help_?”

Her Hand shrugged. “Coin, perhaps. Coin to hire armies.”

“Your sister’s ascent to the throne had also elevated her to the full control of Casterly Rock. Doesn’t your ancient fortress preserve towers upon towers of gold and treasure underneath, my lord?” she asked, half amused and half puzzled, cautious with what she was saying. 

Varys cleared his throat. Tyrion shifted uncomfortably in his seat but replied, “I’m afraid I am unaware of the Rock’s present personal bank, Your Grace. The crown remains to be in deep debt with the Iron Bank of Braavos. If I were safe to assume I think Cersei could have used House Lannister’s coin to pay at least half of it.”

“And the other half went to the expenses of blowing up the Great Sept of Baelor?” Jon said, frowning. He was leaning on the arm of his seat, close enough for Dany to smell the soap and oils used to wash his pretty dark curls. 

Tyrion raised his cup of wine to Jon’s direction, “That is a waste of good coin. A waste of a great house, and innocents involved. And even my last nephew.” his face looked forlorn for a moment.

“It was good coin for your sister, Lord Tyrion,” replied Jon. “That won her the crown in a swift stroke, only to leave her in debt. What was good bargain there?”

“What is the main point of discussing this?” Ser Jorah cut in, his frown was deeper that Jon’s.

Dany smiled, “A mere information from overseas to discuss, Ser Jorah. It doesn’t hurt to be well informed, and for that we must be grateful of Lord Varys’ networks of eyes and ears. As to Lord Tyrion’s assumption, well, I don’t see a prospect of Cersei Lannister reaching out to ask for my help. My dragons are barely renowned in Westeros.”

Varys let out his signature titter, “Westeros will see it with their own eyes, Your Grace. You are the most fitting -”

“Aren’t you the master of whisperers, my lord? Did I whisper? I’m sure you have heard and understood clearly that I’m leaving Westeros behind me,” she smiled sweetly at him, “What service do you truly want to offer?” she asked as kindly as she can, hiding the irritation from the Spider’s frequent inquiries of invading Westeros.

“I wish to serve the realm of the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace.”

“I have a different realm to rule. If I have disappointed you deeply then I offer your my apologies for such wounds on your behest. You are free to leave my service and go back to King’s Landing or wherever seven hells you wish to serve.”

They stared at each other sternly for a moment, then he bowed his head. Silence strained the room until Dany added abruptly, “This session is done. You may all leave, except my Hand.”

Jon Snow made to follow the rest, but Dany reached out and took his hand, pulling him back beside her. She caught Tyrion eyeing their laced hands, and smiled when he saw her looking at him. Dany tried to breathe evenly. Beside her, Jon was stroking circles at the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“Tyrion, I trust your wise advice and opinion,” Tyrion nodded, knowing that she was not yet done. “Jon and I are betrothed and we are expecting a child.”

Tyrion opened his mouth to a big smile as if he were to laugh, but he spoke. He inclined his head from side to side. He was trying to not look like he was surprised, and was taking this with all the courtesy that he could manage.

“I offer you my congratulations. To the both of you, Your Graces.”

“I am not yet king, my lord.” Jon squeezed her hand. “If I may ask politely, from you, if you will permit me to marry the queen?”

Dany looked at Jon in shock, as if Tyrion had the power to stop their marriage. The smile never left her Hand’s face. “Daenerys Targaryen will not be the first monarch to marry out of love. I cannot oppose either of you, you are the queen. I am out of bounds of your intimate relations. But politically though, you must prepare yourselves.”

“Are you saying that you do consent?” asked Jon.

“You don’t need my consent, commander. Or should I say the future king consort? The gods may be good, my queen. This is not a marriage of obligation or political nuptials, I do pray that you two are truly happy.”

The warm sensation bloomed out on her chest, something that screams _Yes yes yes I am happy._ Images flashed across her mind, a noble weirwood tree with its red leaves showering above them, its mysterious face witnessing their bond together. Dany would gladly welcome Jon Snow into her House, as she already had into her heart and life. A small and simple marriage is what she wanted, with their closest friends, allies, and advisors present. The whole, pure moment must be intimate and specially designed. Such huge news must be announced across Meereen, of course. As it would quickly spread outside the many colored bricks of Meereen, news will reach different places that the dragon queen had sealed her heart and hand to one man _forever_.

The sound of Tyrion’s chair moving against the marble floor startled her, and then she remembered.

“I have another announcement to make, my lord. Some kind of proposal.” _I’m going mad._

“What is it, Your Grace?”

“With your wits and knowledge I trust your opinion,” she leaned in closer, as if to tell a twisting secret. “Would you still consider Valyria to be doomed if dragons will come flying above its sky again to sing their song to bring it back to life? Perhaps tales remained to be tales, after all.”

She watched Tyrion Lannister’s face contort into confusion, and remembered his story of sailing through Valyria with Jorah Mormont to meet her.

“Valyria was not made for stonemen. It was meant to be alive with life and rich culture. The life of it came from dragons, my lord. _Dragons._ ”

 

_Fifteen years later_

**The Dragon’s Heir**

The tree was not so high now compared to when she first tried to reach it when she was five-years-old. She had easily plucked out a lemon from the branch, and later she went back to the small cottage to fetch a basket to gather all the lemons until it was full. When Rhaella Targaryen looked around the vicinity, there were too many lemon trees still demanding to be harvested. A single basket would not be enough.

Above her, the sky was the color of powder blue. Summer had come, and so the sun was hotter than ever, but that didn’t matter to Rhaella, she loved the heat. The sunlight had only made her pale skin and silver hair glow like diamonds. 

On her way back again to the cottage, the music of wood clashing together broke out in the air. Rhaella carefully tiptoed her way on the front of the house, and pushed the red door slowly to deposit her basket of lemon in the kitchen. She padded softly to the back door, also painted red, and at the backyard she found a boy and a man sparring with wooden swords just beside the lake. The two of them looked exactly alike, handsome long face and hair of dark pretty curls, except for young Aemon’s eyes. Their father had dark grey eyes, and both Rhaella and Aemon had purple eyes so dark they looked blue at nighttime. The eyes of their dear mother. 

Her stealth had failed her however, as her father stopped the sword dance and smiled when he saw her. He walked towards her, with Aemon following behind. He was taller than her and almost reaching the height of their father. Rhaella greeted her father with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Come, my sweet. It’s time to go back to the palace. Your mother is looking for you.”

“We have just started the training, father,” Aemon immediately retorted, “I like to execute my training here rather than the Grass Keep’s yard.”

“Come back here on the morrow and row the boat yourself. Come, you might as well help me row the boat. You cannot properly hold a sword until you have duly refined your muscles.”

“They are already refined.”

“There’s always an opportunity to improve, Aemon. Remember that.” the king said firmly.

Rhaella stifled a giggle as she watched Aemon’s face fell in frustration. She sat between her brother and father as the two most important men in her life rowed the boat back to the main docks. Five royal boats rowed around their boat to escort them.

“What does mother wish to see me for?” she asked her father.

“Lessons, my sweet.”

“What lessons?” chimed Aemon.

“A surprise. You will get yours in a few years’ time, Aemon. Master your sword first.”

In half an hour, the many intricate turrets and towers of Valyria came in sight. Viserion was soaring across the distance, the dock market was raucous with trades, and within the entrance of the Blackfyre Wall, Rhaella saw an entourage of at least two hundred riding to the direction of the Snow Palace.

“We have visitors?” she asked, her voice high with excitement.

Her father smiled. “Another surprise.”

She narrowed her eyes, “What’s the point of hiding it from me if I’m about to find it out, anyway?” Rhaella said impatiently.

“The sense of excitement,” replied the king calmly. “Each day that passes, you remind me of your mother.”

They stopped at the royal dock, stepped out of their boats and proceeded to their assigned rides. Today, the kind permitted his daughter to ride her favorite silver mare instead to ride languid inside a palanquin. As the royal entourage made way for the streets, the citizens waved and smiled at the family. A great part of the New Valyria was first inhabited by the freedmen of the queen from the beginning of her reign, as they have been overpopulating Meereen. As time passed, foreigners both noble and common came to see the newly reinstated Freehold for themselves, and decided to settle down here. Most came from the colonies of Old Valyria, nobles from Volantis, Tyrosh, and Lys had come to seek the former ruins come to life.

Rhaella had come here herself weeks after her tenth name day, to see the recently concluded constructions of the new buildings of the city. That was the time when her mother had declared that New Valyria was now inhabitable once again. Years later, young Rhaella would still find herself in awe. Her wonderment suddenly melted to a frown when they passed the entrance gates of the Snow Palace.

“I thought we were going home?”

“Yes, but your mother is waiting for you somewhere near the palace.”

Rhaella’s heart fluttered at the sudden realization when they turned their direction to the Dragon’s Pit, and heard the echoing roar of a dragon deep inside its walls. After dismounting their horses, Rhaella and Aemon followed their father with an escort of Unsullied guards to the heart of the Pit. Inside, the queen was having an intimate conversation with Drogon, the great black dragon. Beside the intimidating black dragon was his daughter that Rhaella had happily named Visenya during her hatching. She had golden scales and eyes of grey orbs.

The king pulled the queen to a fierce embrace when the small group had reached her. Aemon came running to their mother, and she kissed the top of his dark curly hair. Rhaella remained frozen on her spot, still unsure what to feel now that her time had finally come.

“I thought this may be the right time, my love.” her mother cooed.

Daenerys Targaryen approached her daughter with tentative steps, and the two women hugged. When they broke apart, Rhaella looked and saw her own reflection on her mother. 

“Am I to ride Visenya now?”

The queen smiled sweetly as spring. “I hate to disappoint you, but perhaps on the morrow or the day after that, my sweet. First, you must master patience. Learn how to earn a dragon’s trust, and you shall fly together.”

*****

In a span of a single week, Dany felt lonely again to leave the New Valyria. But that only meant coming home to Meereen, that was now the fortress seat of House Targaryen. In a few years’ time, Rhaella will be ready to rule over the Bay of Dragons to continue her lessons of a princess, a princess that is capable of handling her kingdom with dedicated duty; and Dany would be staying in Valyria’s royal seat with her Jon Snow and Aemon to hold the Freehold together under her rule with the help of her daughter. Daenerys could not shun the thought of being separated from her firstborn for the first time, she felt a twisting pain of longness on her chest. _A queen must put her people first before her,_ Dany thought, _and Rhaella must learn the same._

Dany stood at the topmost deck, her hands holding tightly around the railings. The wind gusted against her face as the ship sailed its way back to Meereen. The cold wind faded when a familiar warmth enveloped her, and her husband wrapped the both of them in his own woolen cloak. Above, Visenya let out a roar that shook the sea’s waters. Dany could just see clear enough the tiny spot of a girl dressed in blue silks and a shining silver hair behind the young dragon’s back. 

“She’s as stubborn as you. She’d be standing here on deck with us if I’ve won that argument.” Jon Snow said cheerily, before kissing her cheek.

The queen chuckled, “She will be a better dragonrider than me. I think maybe she could handle Drogon’s tantrums much easier.” _and a better queen than me. She will be._

“I trust our daughter to keep herself safe up there. But she cannot spend the rest -”

Dany reached behind her to put a gentle hand on his arm. “Yes, my love. The nearest mass of land is only fifteen minutes from here, she will land Visenya there so she can join us here on board. Don’t worry, I’ve spoken to her. Rhaella will know what to do.”

As Dany leaned her back more comfortably on Jon’s front and they watched their daughter ride her very own dragon, Dany forgot her loneliness. She remembered that she was coming back home to Meereen. Jon had also made sure to build a secret small house with a red door tucked within the woods near the steam, and planted lemon trees around it. A similar cottage was also built back in Valyria. She was not leaving, she’s only coming back home. It’s just another place she loved as well.

_**THE END** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Rhaella had seen visitors arriving, that entourage includes just one of her many suitors.  
> \- Lmao I've got no idea to name the places around New Valyria so I just used House Targaryen as reference. *and that palace dedicated for Jon Snow*  
> \- the Grass Keep is from the _Great Grass Sea_ of the Dothraki.
> 
> (This is kinda sentimental, I'm so DRAMATIC)
> 
> To my dearest readers,
> 
> I cannot properly express my gratitude for you supporting this story. Those who had consistently and considerately left a feedback and discussions, I had truly enjoyed to share these discourses with you, that made me happy and you guys made me learn things just the way I learned things from writing this. Thank you so much. I hope this final chapter is a deserving conclusion for this story, as this is the happiness Dany and Jon deserved. I hope you guys liked it. I was kind of in a rush in writing the final chapters because shit happened and I just find writing a sort of perpetual relief, and finishing this just inspired me and consoled me to venture out optimism. I have never enjoyed writing like it's been living in my soul for ages until this story, to be honest. In a short span of time, the true colors of my love for writing even bloomed brighter. Must be a coincidence though, but when I've finished this story, I have just officially started college, and because of that this fucking GoT fanfic will have a special place in my heart forever. Thank for the support and love you have given to this story. Thank you. And now, let us soar high with our dragons, shall we? 
> 
> Valar morghulis
> 
> <3


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